Friends of the Richelieu. A river. A passion.

"Tout cedit pays est fort uny, remply de forests, vignes & noyers. Aucuns Chrestiens n'estoient encores parvenus jusques en cedit lieu, que nous, qui eusmes assez de peine à monter le riviere à la rame. " Samuel de Champlain

"All this region is very level and full of forests, vines and butternut trees. No Christian has ever visited this land and we had all the misery of the world trying to paddle the river upstream." Samuel de Champlain

Friday, October 2, 2015


by Cassidy McFadzean

Forest's pineneedles made a false floor
that broke away below me, earth

loosening around the tree's roots
and the rotting log's hollow chambers

I fell ass-first in the dappled brook
grasping moss-covered rocks,

and scrambled uphill as twigs cut gashes
on my legs, two thin lacerations stinging

with thistles' kisses. To stop myself
from slipping into a nearby fox den,

I fingered half a sheep's skull, purple collagen
hardened to its ridged teeth and skimmed

my hand against a lichen-covered trunk.
It was a smooth rail that pulled me upright.

I held tightly to snapping branches
as maggots writhed, then vanished.

Suspended between certain dirt
and a glossy cobweb caught at head height,

the tree's outstretched digit caught hold
of my ring and wedded itself to me.

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