Yes, Renee, There is a Virginia Woolf

when my high school teacher
caressed my arm
eyes gleaming power and authority
in chalkdust classrooms
when my uncle
held me too close
behind shoebox rows in warehouse offices
when walked down dark streets alone
elbow jostled
till I ran to restaurant phones
calling taxi saviours
no one told me
said you were waiting
I used to read a book a night
somehow missed the W's
was I really listening
born under a rosebush
dreaming my way through
40 years of life
or did someone just forget
to tell me
mention
by the way did you hear about Virginia
know she was waiting
would stir me to write
the ache welling up
and spilling on the poetry
on all the psychic children

who hid that row of W books from me?

I ate six Austen novels
and a 7th completed for a woman's
magazine
inhaled the Brontës
waited for Godot
searched for the author
with those 6 characters
visited that absurd zoo
howled with Allen
was afraid of George's
big bad Woolf
spent time in the children's hour

but I never found
the W's
for 40 years
a lifetime to catch up on
catch my breath from
catch on to

yes, Renee, there is a Virginia Woolf
she lives in all your severed parts
doing dishes between lectures
putting phantom children to bed
a trace of tears
on all Shakespeare's sisters' cheeks
walking down autumn Oxbridge paths
to airless rooms
filled
with folding walls
wide windows
curtainless
against the summer glare
or hammerpelt of rain
writing lives
a penny a piece
buried under children's stories
3 little pigs
and big bad Albean wolves

I walked past an office door one day
saw Virginia hanging on the wall
and knew
she was in my life

Renee Norman
Coquitlam, B. C.