Poetry by Leanne Hill

               ​Erik Drost CC




The Lucky Ones (This One’s For You, Lucy)

I live for the feeling of being in a room full 
of people that have been destroyed but still
have hope in their eyes

That gather in small, sweaty rooms,
to feel the energy of others who
don’t belong anywhere else 
                                                                 but here

Slice, stitch, slice

A woman is destroyed but filled with hope
the ones that don’t make it, may have lost,

lost connection to some necessities of 
human existence - respect & honesty -
like saying hello to the man with hurt 
in his eyes, asking do you have some spare change?
some spare change some spare change

Slice, stitch, slice

I don’t believe there is a lonelier place than here
At the local bar on a Tuesday afternoon
\the neon signs look out of place in daylight/
& where all the lonely men sit
and all I can think about

All I can think about is
the feeling I get when a man
When a man with a beard & dark hair
who stands tall with confidence & promises
                Steven with the business textbooks in Vancouver’s downtown scene
                                Tom who has a gig every Friday in a Toronto neighborhood pub
                                              Michael who goes to art school in Upstate New York
                                                              Ryan with the neck tattoo playing pool at a Montréal bar
walks into the room & I dissolve

Dissolving into someone I cannot recognize
Suddenly I have forgotten who I am
What I like
What I need

      I was sleeping with Nathan, back when I fucking never thought I deserved very good, and he was
texting me to come over and I said, I have my period tonight so we can just hang out and he never replied &
                                                                                                                                                                 I thought I deserved that
How to breathe

These are the men that help me hate myself

Slice, stitch, slice

I used to let these kind of men
fuck me
control me
indulge me

so, my best, best friend since we were little,
she asked me to her family’s lake house during the summer,
we were young, like 11 or 12, & we hung out with some
older kids - there was one boy who was the cool kid

I remember wanting to get his attention & feeling like
feeling like I wanted to ditch my friend
my friend when she wanted us to go back home

I remember wanting to get treated like shit by a boy
over the love of a friend.
Where did that come from? 
Where the fuck did that come from?
Slice, stitch, slice

The passenger of this miserable existence
that tastes like honeysuckle & weed
that feels like making it through
another day

And because I believe in love at the end of it all //

Slice, stitch, slice

Not the kind of love you read in novels
or see in your favorite Netflix shows
or hear on the radio the morning after //

And I run for miles just to get a taste
Must be love on the brain

// I believe in the love I feel when I look at

When I look into the face of 
an honest lover
a quirky friend
a sister
mother
my niece / who runs into my arms / laughing with a silly cackle / 
                                                                            after riding the carousel three times in a row
                                                                                            / always smiling & reminding me that /

love has no expectations //

                I NEED

// love that feels better than it looks

Slice, stitch, slice

I will always be this person
but things have become easier to

                                                Easier to carry 

Why do I have to be lucky to love?

Now when reminders // triggers // 
happen I am not as afraid

Not as afraid

afraid of
                smelling that cologne
                                                That cologne
                                                              which takes me back to That night

We will forever live in a world that triggers us
living is just making it through the day 
the best way we can

I am not as afraid

                Afraid of the unknown
Of the self-hate that I am so
                Accustomed to 
Self-sabotage my weapon of choice

like swallowing that pill
                he promises will make me
                               happy

                                                                                        cause’ all I wish is to be happy
Slice, stitch, slice
the only cure being
to spill my guts
I read my poetry at the coffeehouse and then
I drove home just smilin’, so happy, you know?

Slice, stitch, slice

And have someone say,
               Luke with his anti-hero skateboard deck
                              tucked under his left arm
                                              pushes the hair from my hopeful eyes
                                                              on a sunny April evening
your darkest
parts are not shameful 
they are beautiful 

Slice, stitch, slice

So I say to you (and also to myself)
Be proud of how far you’ve come
because your past will always 
                                                               come to remind you
of that lonely night
on the streets of              Vancouver
                                                Toronto
                                                New York
                                                Montréal

Slice, stitch, slice

The only thing worse than forgetting
Is remembering

Slice, stitch, slice
Forgive me if I sound angry
But fuck you for making me
this way 

Slice, stitch, slice

Let me ease your worries
                let me crack your ribs open
                               let me see every beautiful, broken, part of you

                                                Let me love the most honest / darkest / parts of you






Leanne Hill (she/her) is a lover of art, music, and expression of the written language. Originally from Saskatoon, SK, Leanne now lives and grows on the unceded territory of the Lekwungen and W̱SÁNEĆ peoples in Victoria, BC. What this means to her, is she is an uninvited community member to these beautiful lands, and she gives back by striving to live a violence-free life. She works as a support worker for self-identified women fleeing abusive relationships.

Her work focuses on the themes of social justice, womanhood, and violence. Her writing can best be described as finding one’s own identity in the midst of society that routinely defines how a woman should be.

Leanne is an ensemble member of the 2020-2021 Fireworks Mentorship Program for spoken-word artists. She won 2nd place for her poem If I can adapt then I will not die in the 2021 University of Victoria on the Verge contest. She continues to find her voice through creativity and passion.

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