Leslie Greentree’s first book of poetry, guys named Bill (Frontenac House, 2002) was followed a year later by go-go dancing for Elvis (Frontenac House, 2003). In 2004, she won the CBC Poetry Face-off for Calgary, and competed in the National Face-off. ‘Fargo’s, Whyte Avenue’, a poem from go-go dancing for Elvis, was selected for inclusion in Writing Alberta: An Anthology by Dr. Robert Stamp (U of C Press). In spring 2006, Greentree published her first volume of short stories, entitled A Minor Planet for You.
As well as working full-time at Red Deer Public Library, Greentree does freelance writing and acts as associate editor for a Central Alberta cultural tabloid called artichoke. She has read across Alberta, as well as in Saskatoon, Humboldt and Toronto, and is a featured reader at the Moose Jaw Festival of Words this summer, and the South Country Fair in Fort McLeod, Alberta. She has also been a featured reader at various other literary festivals, including the popular Word on the Street Festival in Calgary. Greentree is one of several organizers of Crossing Place: Red Deer Writers’ Festival, a day-long literary festival featuring writers from Central Alberta and beyond. She serves on two cultural boards in Red Deer. Born in Grande Prairie, Alberta, Greentree earned a B.A. (English) and a B.Ed. at the University of Lethbridge.
See also: Griffin Trustee Robin Robertson, Griffin Poetry Prize 2004 shortlisted poets Leslie Greentree and David Kirby, and Griffin Poetry Prize 2003 shortlisted poet Gerald Stern were joined by the 2005 Canadian and International winners Roo Borson and Charles Simic on a triumphal tour to the Dublin Writers Festival in June, 2005. Leslie, David and Roo kept a lively blog of the trip, which you can read here.
Judges’ Citation
Leslie Greentree is a conversational poet whose artful talk is not afraid to engage any subject head-on.
Leslie Greentree is a conversational poet whose artful talk is not afraid to engage any subject head-on. Her unpretentious, sometimes comic, lower-case poems have an irresistible charm. They pull us into the funk and drama of her everyday experience and, further, into the center of her interior life.
Selected poems
by Leslie Greentree
why am I always washing dishes when she calls?
she probably thinks I’m one of those people who never
leaves the house who watches TV all night and thinks
the stars of their favourite shows are real
I sling the tea towel over my shoulder
while she tells me her latest grand adventure
a six month tour across the United States
go-go dancing for an Elvis impersonator
the young slender Elvis of course
she’s flying to San Francisco to learn the right Elvis moves
you have to know the right people she says
to be a go-go dancer for Elvis
the beautiful sister has always known the right people
free trips to everywhere invitations to movie premieres
I guess that means she’s always
known all the moves too
what am I supposed to tell her
that I plan to hang out at Totem Lumber in my spare time
next week after I’m finished scraping all the
shit from my walls that was so deftly
hidden by the dainty rose wallpaper put up by the previous
owner that I was scared to death the first time I
pulled out the lawnmower and how I felt liked I’d scaled a
mountain when the grass ended up basically even
and I didn’t electrocute myself
while she’s being fitted for her black go-go boots
I’ll be going through all the boxes I’ve been avoiding
photographs and wedding shots that never made it into
the album the birthday cards I didn’t have time to
sort before leaving: happy birthday Honey thanks for seven
great years you make me so happy I love you
I say I’m fine ask about the tour make all those
encouraging envious noises I always make
with the beautiful sister I hang up the phone and
open a bottle of grenache I’m not going through
those fucking photographs tomorrow
Copyright © 2003 Leslie Greentree
go-go dancing for Elvis
the first time you undressed me you peeled me like a small cold
girl who had fallen in the snow your hands were gentle and soft
you stroked me like a chickadee who had tumbled from a nest
when I reached out and placed my hand on your ribs slid it up
over the bones I felt your heart race strong and hard felt how
that was for me because of me I splayed my hand my fingers
on your white skin pressed gently then more firmly until my
handprint was embedded red in your white chest my bones
impressed upon your skin it didn’t fade until after our
breathing slowed your heartbeat slowed
sometimes I fell asleep with head pressed to your chest your
long arms wrapped around me once and a half listening to your
heart like a puppy to an alarm clock wrapped in a towel your
breath echoing those steady true thumps with soft puffs of air
blowing wisps of hair across my cheek in a matching steady beat
how like me to look for symbolism to ruin the meaning that
did exist making it more than it was when in a smaller world
it might have been acceptable trust me to make a metaphor
from a simple physical response
Copyright © 2003, Leslie Greentree
once and a half
my phone is haunted by another shadow
her name is Linda Lee
every day there are calls from collection agencies
Linda owes money everywhere and
has skipped town
leaving me with her details
her phone number that doesn’t spell anything
I feel a strange sneaking guilt when they call
as if I might really be Linda Lee
they might somehow prove it
the irrational blush of the good girl
accused of lying
who suddenly doubts her own truth
the second week I say things like
Linda’s a tour guide in the
Dominican Republic now
I don’t think she’s coming back
or
Linda left to work with Greenpeace
she disappeared last fall
a tragic dinghy accident they were
chained to a Russian whaler
these telephone voices remind me of
my ex-husband parental somehow
slightly disapproving but
too polite to accuse one of anything
to spell it all out
Copyright © 2003, Leslie Greentree
shades of Linda Lee
she left for Australia a couple of years ago
with five hundred bucks and a backpack
she picked fruit drove truck tended bar
did a stint washing paintbrushes for an artist
eventually posing for him while his wife baked gingersnaps
her gift is that the wife didn’t mind
couldn’t blame her husband for wanting to sketch
the beautiful sister was a bit in love herself
she called us Christmas Day
I held the phone between ear and shoulder
as I peeled potatoes and checked the turkey
it was Boxing Day in Melbourne
how Star Trek I said
I was laughing until my husband rolled his eyes
and then I stopped
chopped the potatoes with short hard strokes
I thought how fitting it was
to speak to the beautiful sister from the future
I asked her for an inside tip tomorrow’s lottery numbers
thought maybe I would throw these fucking potatoes
in the garbage or better yet just leave them
on the counter to brown and rot
walk out the door jump on a plane
get the hell out of here
Copyright © 2003, Leslie Greentree