Notes on“A Northern Silver Mine”
Jake Morrow

My grandparents’ house was a mezzuzah

hung atop the entrance to Franklin

Carmichael Park. It was full of ants

and ant trap motels. Grandma’d

dance with them – the ants. She’d beat

them with a rolled-up Tablet

Magazine. Told me only to kill things that came

into the house, but Grandpa let me squish

garden snails. One time a bat rode Elijah’s

draft past me at the front door. Everyone got

scared like it was a goddamn

plague. Not my dad, he was Canadian

brave, got up on his chair with a plastic bag,

grabbed that bat off the ceiling, and took it

out back. Funny thing, that bat

shat in Elijah’s cup and we weren’t sure

if we were supposed to pour another one

or what.

Jake Morrow is a poet and former brunch chef from Toronto, Ontario. Jake is a current MA candidate in English in the field of creative writing at the University of Toronto where he is working on a collection of poetry that explores the intersections of contemporary Jewish Canadian identities and experiences.