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Creation Story
Read more from this authorby Rob Taylor


She has her narratives, he has his,
and together they move through the world.

Their scripts are filled with the same set pieces, same characters,
yet they are blocked differently, recite different lines.

His parties end at 11:00, hers at 2:30.
They attend neighbouring churches, cheer for rival hockey teams.
She waters the lawn on Tuesdays, he sleeps in on Saturdays.
Their cars point in opposite directions each morning.
Their children attend different universities.

‘But we’re only having one child, a girl,’
he notes to her, drowsily.

She stares at the ceiling, smiles faintly.
It has taken so little for him to unmoor her.

‘Then our child will live on an island between us,’
she confesses, rolling on her side.

‘And us? We will live an ocean apart?’
he curls his arm around her, cocooning her in blankets.

He is long asleep before she can answer him,
but she whispers nonetheless, to the dark, pulsing room,
‘We will beach ourselves upon her shore.’



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