This page collects all poetry from 30 Days by the Sea, organized by section. The poems range from spare lyric pieces written by the sea to long-form documentary poems about precarious academic labour. They are offered as testimony, as witness, and as a form of knowing that prose alone cannot carry.
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Section One: From the Shore
Poems written during or about the thirty days in Loreto, Baja California Sur. These pieces attend to the body, the sea, and the slow work of returning to rest.
Section Two: Labour Poems
Poems about precarious academic work, institutional harm, and the cost of contract labour on the body and the self. These poems are testimony from inside nineteen years of sessional teaching.
- Poem: I Did Everything You Asked Me
- Poem: They Lied.
- Cell B14
- You Are Not Qualified
- Grief
- The Contract
- They Used My Labour and Called It Privilege
- I Care Too Much
- How Do I Feel? Do You Really Want to Know?
- Performing Fine
- I Was Always Good Enough. I Just Never Belonged.
- Grief, and the Loving of Myself Back
- I Taught You How to Think
- Filed It. Opened the Browser.
- The Parking Lot
- Discussion Board, 11 p.m.
Section Three: Letters & Memory
Letters written across time — to younger selves, to the self still becoming. These poems hold the relationship between who we were and who we are.
- To the Woman I Was Before I Knew
- A Letter From the Little One
- A Letter From the Woman You Are Becoming
Section Four: The Precariat — A Series
A sequence of twenty-six poems about twenty-five years on a one-year contract. These poems document the texture of sessional academic life: the renewal emails, the empty offices, the students never met in a room, the shoulders that never came down. They are offered as a collective record.
- Twenty-Five Years on a One-Year Contract
- The Pin
- Planning to Have You Back
- Open Learning
- They Called It Flexibility
- Remote
- The Course Shell
- April
- I Never Met You in a Room
- Renewable
- Who Teaches the Distance Learners
- Permanent Within Myself
- The Placeholder
- The Bar
- The One Who Went Quiet
- Reason Enough
- You Got the Job
- The Shoulders Never Come Down
- What I Did With the Uncertainty
- Sleep in Renewal Season
- Twenty-Five
- My Name on Nothing
- Slow Violence
- I Was Always Good Enough
- The Woman Who Kept Signing
- The Precariat
Section Five: Later Life & Caregiving
Poems about aging, caregiving, grief, retirement, and the body in later life. This is the largest sequence in the collection — a record of tending to others and to oneself across the long second half of a life.
- A Letter to the Woman Who Is Where I Was
- After the Diagnosis
- All the Things I Said I’d Do When I Had Time
- All the Women in the Waiting Room
- Enough
- Everything I Know About Love I Learned Late
- Fifty-Seven and Just Beginning
- Getting Older With Someone
- Grandmother
- He Is Finding His Way Back to Me
- Her Furniture in My House
- Her Good Days
- Her Voice on the Phone
- I Am Allowed to Take Up Space
- I Am Becoming Her
- I Am Learning to Live in a Slower Body
- I Defined Myself by What I Carried
- I Don’t Know What I Like Anymore
- I Drive Her to the Appointment
- I Kept the Jar of Peanut Butter
- I Let the Phone Ring
- I Stopped Explaining Myself
- I Thought I’d Be Ready
- In Praise of the Ordinary Tuesday
- Invisible Labour, Visible Now
- Learning to Receive
- My Body in the Morning Light
- My Daughter Is Braver Than I Was
- My Mother’s Hands Are My Hands
- My Son Calls Every Sunday
- Now I Cook for One
- On Turning Sixty
- Parenting in Both Directions
- Permission
- Reading Her Old Letters
- She Apologized for Being Sick
- She Called Me By My Childhood Name
- She Doesn’t Eat Much Anymore
- She Forgets the Year But Not the Grief
- She Remembers the Songs
- She Taught Me to Make the Soup
- Sixty Is Not Old
- Still
- Still Here
- The Afternoon We Just Sat
- The Apology She Never Got
- The Body After Fifty
- The Child Who Came Back Different
- The Conversation I Keep Having With My Younger Self
- The Day I Stopped Explaining the Poetry
- The Diagnosis She Took Better Than I Did
- The Distance Between Us Is Also Love
- The First Vacation That Was Actually a Vacation
- The First Winter Without the Commute
- The First Year Without the Routine
- The Friend I Lost Track Of
- The Friendships That Survived
- The Garden I Finally Have Time For
- The Graduation I Almost Didn’t Cry At
- The Granddaughter Who Has My Eyes
- The Grief That Has No Name
- The Hormones Nobody Talks About
- The Hospital Bag I Packed for Her
- The Hour After She Falls Asleep
- The Last Day Nobody Noticed
- The Last Poem in This Collection
- The Last Thanksgiving She Remembered Everyone
- The Marriage After the Children Leave
- The Meal We Made Together for the Last Time Without Knowing
- The Morning After the Last Day
- The New Resident
- The Night Before She Went Into Care
- The Night I Couldn’t Sleep and Didn’t Fight It
- The Night She Asked Me Not to Go
- The Pension Letter
- The Permission I Finally Gave Myself
- The Photo Album I Finally Opened
- The Room That Used to Have a Smell
- The Second Childhood Is Not Soft
- The Second Shift, Ended
- The Sibling I Am Doing This With
- The Specialist’s Waiting Room
- The Talk We Never Had
- The Things I Do Now That No One Evaluates
- The Things I Grew Into
- The Things She Kept
- The Things That Belonged to Her Mother
- The Threshold Between
- The Version of Me Nobody Needed
- The Walk I Take Alone Every Morning
- The Way She Held My Hand at the Airport
- The Weight I Stopped Carrying
- The Weight of Her Coat
- The Women Before Me
- The Years I Was Too Busy to Be Sad
- They Stopped Looking
- This Is What Joy Looks Like Now
- What Do I Do With My Hands Now
- What Grief Actually Looks Like
- What I Am Building Now
- What I Am Doing With the Rest of It
- What I Didn’t Say at the Door
- What I Do Not Miss
- What I Do With the Anger
- What I Inherited
- What I Know About Endings
- What I Know Now That I Didn’t Know
- What I No Longer Apologize For
- What I Want My Children to Know About This Time
- What I Wish I’d Said While She Could Still Hear It
- What I Would Tell My Forty-Year-Old Self
- What My Body Remembered When I Stopped
- What My Daughter Taught Me About Leaving
- What My Hands Have Done
- What Retirement Does to a Marriage
- What She Couldn’t Afford to Rest
- What She Said When I Told Her I Was Tired
- What the Garden Taught Me About Waiting
- What the Mirror Knows
- When He Got Sick
- When I Finally Asked for Help
- When My Son Became a Man I Didn’t Quite Recognize
- When She Stopped Recognizing the House
- When She Was the Age I Am Now
- When the House Feels Like Mine Again
- When the House Is Quiet and I Don’t Mind
- Who Am I When No One Needs Me to Perform
- You Learned to Leave From Me