katherena vermette (she/her/hers) is a Michif (Red River Métis) writer from Treaty 1 territory, the heart of the Métis Nation, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Her third book of poetry, procession (House of Anansi) was released on September 30, 2025.
procession presents a series of poems reaching into what it means to be at once a descendant and a future ancestor, exploring the connections we have with one another and ourselves, amongst friends, and within families and Nations. A lineage is a line, and the procession, whether in celebration or in mourning, is ongoing.
Interviewed by Shelley Motz
SM: Of procession, you write: “you are only here/to learn from those who came before/and make space/for those who come after.” You urge readers to be a good ancestor and to be a good kid — a theme that is explored beautifully in your poems, but also seems to be the impetus behind your life’s work. How do writing and storytelling serve this work?
kv: It’s true, I do gravitate toward intergenerational work, always vying for a good legacy, I guess. Sometimes I achieve this better than others. Mostly I think I am just interested in the emotional reality of things, whether that’s a story or my own stories – which is what poems are to me. Part of that is wondering what comes from others, like our family, and what comes before. Here I am thinking of intergenerational inheritance, so often recalled as trauma, but if we inherit the trauma surely we also inherit the strength as well.
SM: Throughout procession, I was aware of several threads — narrative threads connecting one idea to another and tethers between the past and the present, between mother and child, within and between communities or nations. Connections that often fray or snap. What did you learn by exploring these connections, or what do you hope readers take away from the connections you draw?
kv: I think I was most concerned with the connection between generations, from losing folks, something that felt very acute these last few years, to gaining new humans, equally vivid, as I welcomed two new members into my family. Sitting between these two realities is such a strange place to be but where we always are, even when we don’t realize, maybe especially then. I was really thinking the big thoughts about our individual lives being just a middle point of the whole, much much longer story. Maybe this just felt like an appropriate exercise in these intense times, as we’re thinking so much about what happens next, what could happen next. Or maybe that’s just mid life, lol.
SM: I love the poems in procession, as a GenX woman born and raised in British Columbia, and a mother, I can relate to the nostalgia about childhood in the 1980s and the powerful emotions associated with becoming a mother. But there is much that is particular to your experience as an Indigenous woman on stolen land. What role do celebration and mourning play in these poems?
kv: In a big sense, I think losing people doesn’t have to be tragic. It’s hardest when there is some injustice, when folks are taken too soon or are lost through something out of their control. But the good long well-lived lives are such a celebration. It’s still tragic but only for those of us left behind. I never thought I would like aging so much, mostly because I never thought I’d get even this far, but now that I can see it just over the horizon, Elderhood sounds pretty awesome. I look forward to it.
SM: You write: “Procession delves into what it means to make poems and to be an artist, to be born into a body, to carry it all, and, if you’re very lucky, age.” What advice do you have for emerging writers, or your younger self, who are setting out on this road?
kv: We’re such a youth-centric world. Some of it is fabulous, I think young people are amazing and should take up the most space, but coming out of that is pretty good too. I like giving advice. I am full of useless tidbits I try and pass off as knowledge but really, I don’t know that young people need much advice from us. They’re doing a damn fine job on their own. I revel at all they know and all they can do.
SM: What does it mean to you to be an elder — as an Indigenous woman and/or as a writer?
kv: To be clear, I am not an Elder. That’s a community recognized position and something very different than what I do. Plus, I’m not that old yet – gimme a minute, lol. But when I hear from actual Elders, when I aspire to be like them one day, I think the wisdom is in the quietness, the gentleness. They are just living their lives being great examples, just by living, by personifying being unbothered and at ease. They offer tea and time, and that is such an honour for us to receive. They have the best gossip because they know what is really important. If they are lucky and we are, they teach us how to be at peace. I strive for that, and ever so slowly, I am learning.
SM: Do you have a favourite poem in this collection? If so, what is it about that poem that you love?
kv: Picking a favourite piece of writing is like a mother picking a favourite child – of course you have a favourite but you can’t possibly admit to it. Just kidding. My relationship with the things I write is so funny, I have full on relationships with each piece. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I hate it, it’s complicated, depends on mood and season or whatever. These days I am really liking the last section, what I call the old lady poems, mostly because I wrote them in the spirit of feeling free and not giving a f*ck. I like that feeling and hope it lasts a while.
SM: Is there a question you wish I’d asked? A message you want to convey?
kv: I’m good. chi maarsii for your thoughtful questions.