None of This Belongs to Me

Ellie Sawatzky

• Publisher: Nightwood Editions
• Year: 2021
• Print ISBN:
  9780889714083
• eBook ISBN:
  9780889714090
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Canadian Poetry
• Index: Literature

In this vibrant debut, Ellie Sawatzky rustles the underbrush of identity, seeking clarity on the nature of ownership and belonging. Haunted and inspired by old boyfriends, girls named Emily, ancestral ghosts, polar bears and mythic horses, None of This Belongs to Me plots a young woman's coming of age in a time of environmental and socio-economic peril. From rural Ontario to Kitsilano to Burning Man, Sawatzky inquires into childhood learning, girlhood learning, what is inherited, what is acquired, what begins to take form in the iridescent space between innocence and experience ("The body's crystal arithmetic"). Superimposing dreamscapes on realities, history on pop culture and everyday sorrows, this collection is a hymn for the broken-hearted, a plea for connection in the information age, and a call to question the ways in which we both nurture and harm one another and our environment.

None of This Belongs to Me is pertinent now more than ever, as Sawatzky's generation comes of age in a tumultuous time, forced to consider all of that which does not—and may never—belong to them. These poems invite readers to explore our inner and outer worlds, to question the ways we inhabit them, to infuse our modern lives with our potent histories.

IV
Unorganized Territory

You won’t want to sleep. But staying up so late won’t teach you anything. Better to look in a dream. That’s the way in to leaving.

—Gemini Horoscope, Astro Poets tweet

Goodbye

after “The Coup” by Patricia Piccinini

Tableau: a silicone-and-fibreglass boy with a taxidermal parrot on his arm, his features simian, the hotel room destroyed, one hand poised

to strike or stroke the bird, we’ll never know. I’ve been categorizing good and bad lately for the little boy I nanny who, last week, lobbed

a monster truck at the TV, smashed the screen. He looked at me, triumphant, he’d made something happen. When he reaches for his baby brother

we all suck air through our teeth. Will he be good or bad, this tiny revolutionary, how many times will he hurt or be hurt, shall we

start the tally? It’s hard to love in this backstage manner. I’ll be relieved to leave, the way I was at my last job,

the way I was when I left the hotel tonight, the boy with the parrot behind me in a bright room, his outstretched hand landing softly.

New Moon, Gemini Season

Someone on Instagram said you can begin again

Across the city the man I used to love is happy likely

waxing metaphysical to his cats about the Illuminati

I’m feverish in bed the Internet feeding me little wisdoms I don’t believe

in romance a friend says in a text and I protest

but these days an ASMRtist on YouTube pets me to sleep

The little boy I nanny says he sees ghosts I guess I believe

in unfinished business like when the Big One shakes us I imagine I’ll be high

on cough syrup rolling bad nineties movies in my mind and wishing

I could call my mother but lately I just ask Google

at least I know I’m not the first person to have wondered

anything wikiHow can I begin again if I’m still haunted how

do I make peace with my ex who believed

the Flat Earth Theory fell asleep each night listening to lectures

by a man known as Mr. Astrotheology I hated that NASA loomed

monstrous outside our house that even love

might have been a conspiracy We circled each other

for so many years I saw my Saturn returning and a so-called

antimoon finally shadowed him from me

I’m wide awake now even in sleep I’m busy building catastrophes

Last night’s nightmare a gym floor littered with thumbtacks

many barefoot children But hope

this evening is a post-Tinder codeine dream where I see two of me

make love to each other while the earth quakes

I believe this is the beginning of something

Blessings Upon U and Ur Bullshit

for my neighbour

but also fuck u the yoga’s not working and i hate u and ur audi q7 which before today before i knew what kind of woman handled her i thought was kinda beautiful actually i could maybe feel a bit sorry for the audi poor elephant it’s not her fault but u who threatened to have my car towed bc it was parked in front of ur house u who own the street u epithet of imperialist white capitalist heteronormativity u said u’ll understand when ur a mom u said u’ll underst...

Table of contents

• Half Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Repeat Offenders
• Poetry Wants My Imaginary Boyfriends
• None of This Belongs to Me
• Unorganized Territory
• Notes
• Acknowledgements
• About the Author