Salt

April 2018

Luminescent Limbs by Vanessa Iddon

It doesn’t seem fair
To call it “New” or “Found”
When its been waiting
With weathered salted wisdom
For as long as dark rocks
have held line after line
Of tumbling wave
Most of us are settlers
Though some of us don’t settle well
Even still, the windy weathered doorways
And greasy slush
Have a way of calling
A people together
The kind of love here
Is a gentle in hardness
The humour in climbing narrow high pathways
— in too much cold — in too late a hour
The tipple-tipping hill echoing
Kind of love
On the days that are too big to hold
Because the crashing in our chest makes islands
We turn them out
To lichens in starlight
Our gnarled green spray land
And call it home

The story of a photograph

BY Naomi Niyukuli

“It reminds me of many nights I slept in the forests and I was waiting to die. We had houses, beds, and sheets, but we were unable to have them around us. My family and I had to sleep outside in any weather. In the storm rain, cold, and wind without blankets.”

RESURRECTING THE GREAT AUK

BY Drew Brown

The Great Auk got a raw deal. Setting its cloned Razorbill-hybrid progeny down on Funk Island as an act of atonement is a tempting proposition. Easing our collective guilt aside, a resurrected Auk could be an economic boon. Every cove and tickle would put in an ACOA grant to host a penguin hatchery.

Sending Up Kites

BY Matthew Hollett

NEWFOUNDLAND QUARTERLY was founded in 1901, the same year Marconi flew a 500-foot kite on Signal Hill and intercepted the first trans-Atlantic wireless transmission. The second-oldest magazine in Canada, NQ began as “a literary magazine of interest to Newfoundlanders at home and abroad,” which is not far off the way it describes itself today, as “a cultural journal of Newfoundland and Labrador.” That’s a remarkable persistency of purpose over 116 years.