sīpiy

so i guess this is where we’re at.

i’ve stretched your fingers apart for miles

trying to see what rivers flow through them

but instead all that exists in those spaces

are wastelands.

you can’t catch water

with gaps like yours.

i’ve followed the lines on your palm

like traplines looking for something

that i’m not even sure exists

but maybe if i follow these trails on your skin close enough

i’ll find what i’m looking for.

be careful when you set a snare.

be careful not to catch yourself.

i’ve tried to convince myself

that maybe something could grow

in your slash and burn forests

but the only thing that grows after a fire

is ihkapaskwa

and i can’t tell if it’s beautiful or nuisance.

if you drive the mining roads of the Sukunka

you’ll understand.

maybe there’s beauty in this limbo –

there’s some life between your fingers

that i don’t need to cultivate

maybe there’s closure in knowing

that you can’t catch rivers.

but i can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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