When David Foster Wallace said that
fiction is about what it is
to be a fucking human being,
he probably didn’t intend to insinuate
coitus is the principal occupation
of the imagination, but may have:
narrative, after all, loves the twilit
entanglement as much as anyone,
and the way the votive gyroscope
of a moving mind compresses
into the white-sheeted ordeal of a book
is, perhaps, like the flowers
later pressed between its pages,
finally sensual in nature.
Kevin Heslop is a poet and actor from London, Ontario.