In poemw, the third finger of the left hand hits ‘w’ instead of ‘s’ and makes up a new kind of poem, the sort-of poem, the approxi-lyric, the poem that doesn’t want to claim poemness. Poemw are about daily things — graffitti, hair, sea gulls, second-hand clothes — and rarer things — dead crows, baked mice, ski accidents, Judith Butler. They’re jokes-and-not-jokes, cheeky, goofy.
Shortlisted for the BC Book Prizes’ Dorothy Livesay Poetry Prize.
Event Magazine on Event Magazine wrote:
“a playful and sometimes poignant take on gender, nature, and history”
“This is strong and mature work; Fleming’s poems are refreshingly self-deprecating, whip-smart and convey a deep humility.”