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Precordial Thump
Precordial Thump
Precordial Thump
Ebook104 pages26 minutes

Precordial Thump

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LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 24, 2018
ISBN9781550967579
Precordial Thump
Author

Zoe Whittall

ZOE WHITTALL is the author of five novels, including the recent bestseller The Fake, which was longlisted for the Toronto Book Award. The New York Times called her fourth novel The Spectacular, “a highly readable testament to the strength of the maternal bond.” Her third novel The Best Kind of People was shortlisted for The Scotiabank-Giller Prize. Her second novel Holding Still for as Long as Possible won a Lambda Award, and was an American Library Association’s Stonewall Honor Book. Her debut novel Bottle Rocket Hearts won the Writers’ Trust of Canada’s Dayne Ogilvie prize. She is also a Canadian Screen Award winning TV writer. She lives in Prince Edward County.  

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    Book preview

    Precordial Thump - Zoe Whittall

    GLÜCK

    Precordial Thump

    red rimmed reading glasses, fern green flats

    someone torched The Good Will

    a plastic bag hung around a door handle

    filled with scarves and beads, ready to go

    burnt coffee, pepper clumped, upturned lip

    of a Sealtest cup, your open hand

    when does history start, how do you start

    a heart, with a fist and a caustic order?

    while we play at rape, calling in (so) sick—

    the doorbell rings, a hollow bird call

    we clutch our chests, crack our backs, ignore

    the tinny ring, tell travel and suicide stories

    last spring Abigail hung, by a necklace in the attic

    What was she thinking, not leaving a note?

    there was a pig in Goa behind the hut who

    ate our shit before it hit the ground.

    conjure a single, carefully aimed blow.

    I could put my coat on, I could just

    walk out of work. No one dies from unprocessed

    grant applications. you tattoo my ankle

    with your first initial, take oral inventory

    the ways we’ve almost died

    meningitis, collision, hanging,

    cause and effect, the precordial thump

    is illegal now. I practice it on bread dough, draw X’s.

    I name you Scout, I learn CPR, hold paradox

    hone my compulsions, terrible and incantatory.

    the things I have to do to get by.

    we watch bombings on TV, put our terror

    into context, lucky shame, press nine

    before you dial out, archive hospital bracelets.

    This is my birth name. This is real.

    Stoop Smoke

    On my front stoop, I am narrowing my world view.

    Brains of condensation bead the bottle, I clutch

    the urge to be expansive. I look up when the bus passes

    too fast. The kids rubberneck from the recycling bins

    where they poke at a dead bird with a badminton racquet,

    cheeks puffed with gum. I look down and then

    ahead. I fix a stare like a broken toaster. I keep simple momentum:

    glass to lip, trainer toe to stair. The colour of

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