it skips a generation

erin vosters

My grandmother was said to levitate 

where the other mothers could see her 

wearing lipstick, red shoes, 

a two-piece swimsuit. She was said 

to smoke from the eyes and ears 

and to cast red embers 

with every step. She was said 

to laugh. There is a story 

they say is apocryphal 

in which she cried blood 

that streaked her daughters’ bodies 

from across the continent. 

If I say the right phrase 

sidelong to the bathroom mirror, 

I am told she might appear.

---

Erin Vosters (they/them) is a midwife and writer from Winnipeg, Manitoba, on Treaty 1 territory. They have previously published in Juice, the bilingual online publication of Poetry Lab Shanghai, and chouette. They have work forthcoming in Maisonneuve.

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