“there are windrows of mattresses
lining the road like spring snowdrifts. . . .
the signs affixed to them with
sticky packing tape that say ‘propre.’
as if that will convince us.”
Les Matelas wanders the streets of Parc Ex, Montreal, reminiscing about the informal furniture exchange that is constantly going on in the city’s streets. Of particular interest are the mattresses that pile up, never taken away like other furniture for fear of bedbugs, and their character.
For more Montreal poetry by Helen Hajnoczky, check out No Right on Red from above/ground press.