Salem Paige is a poet and multidisciplinary artist based on traditional Coast Salish territory (so-called Vancouver, British Columbia). Salem holds an Honours Bachelor of Arts from the University of Ottawa with a Major in Communications. Their works revolve around the exploration of identity and discomfort, and can be found in their debut collection of poetry The Third Self (2023, Sunday Mornings at the River Press) and their chapbooks miraculous dead things (above/ground press, 2025), evolution artificialis (2025, Anstruther Press) and to grow roots (2023, bottlecap press), as well as in several dozen literary journals and magazines. They have previously been twice nominated for Best of the Net, shortlisted for the Ralph Gustafson Poetry Prize and the Bridport Poetry Prize, and longlisted for the ROOM Poetry Prize. More on Salem can be found at salempaige.com or @corpseofapoet on the Internet.
Their poems “same fish, bigger pond,” “roadkill,” “exhale,” “wildfire,” “how to write a poem about your body” appear in the forty-ninth issue of Touch the Donkey.
Q: Tell me about the poems “same fish, bigger pond,” “roadkill,” “exhale,” “wildfire,” “how to write a poem about your body.”
A: I wrote "same fish, bigger pond" after moving from Ottawa to Vancouver, which was my first major move as an adult. It made me realize how capable I am, and how it doesn't matter where I live as long as I am growing, and becoming something better than I was yesterday.
"roadkill" was written not about a singular person but moreso a type of person I believe we have all encountered: the type of person who makes everything about themselves, paints themselves as the victim, blames all of their problems on other people or circumstances, and always has an excuse for their bad behaviour.
"exhale" is about my long-distance partner, and the feeling of being reunited after time apart. of how some people make you feel so complete that being without them is like being without air.
"wildfire" was written at the beginning of a relationship when everything is fast and exciting, and how while it can be thrilling to have something so new and bright, there is also an underlying fear of what happens when things are no longer shiny and new. what happens when the fire burns out?
"how to write a poem about your body" feels fairly self-explanatory. I was writing about my partner in the early stages of our relationship, and wanted to explain how I saw her: the strength, the comfort, the mystery, the way she is so deserving but so unconvinced of it. this poem was the result.
Q: How does these poems compare to some of the other work you’ve been doing lately?
A: a lot of these poems are about change and growth and discovery, which is a lot of what I've been writing lately. with that said, I also have been writing quite a bit of speculative future-based poems, within the same world as my chapbook evolution artificialis. those poems are much more narrative than the ones in this issue, which are a lot more personal and connected to my life at the moment.
Q: What has been the process of putting together a manuscript? Is the process occurring naturally, or have you found some difficulty finding a shape to the poems? Does it feel different than putting together a chapbook?
A: my collections all occur naturally – I write poems as they come to me and later discover throughlines either in theme or style or voice or often several things at once. sometimes there are clear gaps and I find I really need to stretch myself to fill them but I absolutely love the creative challenge. chapbooks have been far easier because I tend to assemble the poems that are in conversation and then trim the fat so to speak, leaving only the poems that say exactly what I intend to with the collection. I find it a lot easier to create in excess and then whittle down than setting a goal and building up to it.
Q: Do you have any models for the kinds of work you’ve been attempting?
A: I’d been interested in writing more narrative speculative poetry but hadn’t quite found it executed in a way that spoke to me until I read my friend Mahaila Smith's collection Seed Beetle. The way they built a narrative universe so clearly through a variety of perspectives has helped drive the direction my own collection is taking.
I also recently published a piece inspired by bill bissett’s work. I love the way he plays with form and style and punctuation.
Q: With a full-length collection and a couple of chapbooks, as well as your current works-in-progress, how do you feel your work has progressed? Where do you see your work heading?
A: my work has progressed a lot more in the pauses and the breaths between writing more than anything else. it's when I step away from writing and then return that I see the most change – typically as a deeper understanding of what I want to say, and a more intentional way of saying it, as opposed to just vomiting feelings on a page. I see my work becoming more in line with craft rather than intuition as I read more, take more workshops, and continue to develop my individual voice. I see myself moving away from traditional work and playing more with form and language and making shit up. I see myself becoming more strange and i'm excited for that to be happening already and continuing to happen.
Q: Finally, who do you read to reenergize your own work? What particular works can’t you help but return to?
A: Mary Oliver. always always always. nature is my reenergizer and clearly was hers too, and her work always reignites my belief in myself. her collection of essays called "Upstream" is one I am always returning to, but any of her poetry collections will bring me comfort.