Two Poems
nests & pools
- these months my ceremony
- is an intentional gaze
- into a smooth,
- hollowed out,
- porcelain moon—
- a bowl that holds me;
- this gaze
- a homecoming
- with my diluted
- over-ripe
- raspberry self
- standing there
- holding silent space
- i read the dark, amorphous clumps
- of my coagulating life,
- eggs and nests
- i see my future in still-water pools:
- departures from
- the rhythmic rhythm
- of my body my womb
- eyes closed, i whisper “gentle. gentle change my body.”
- i feel no yearning for any of this to be over
- hold those moon-women-teachers close
- like i hold these cycles
- this bathroom wall
- these cycles, my warrior
- medicine. i grin too,
- feeling crows bounce
- the corners of my eyes:
- i could still have a baby
- i could
- “kaa, kaa” they say. no, no.
- i laugh i cry nahaaw. ok.
- i return to nests & pools
- and these months, my ceremony
- is anticipation hesitation strategy—
- a petition for grace
- to fill me, ready me
- for this bleeding body changing
- my growing daughter leaving
on making friends in Coast Salish territory
ii. T’souke Potholes
- you, grandparent rock
- dear artifact of time,
- and spinning glacial waters
- remind me of a beach i know:
- Potagannising,
- island of the little mortars,
- Drummond Island
- a rock beach with little round bowls
- made too, from glacial, grandparent, and water action
- later, used for ricing
- and the like,
- so it’s said
- what giants
- —like misaabe
- or sasquatch—
- use(d) you
- for their food prep
- and ceremonies?
iii. cedars
- chi giizhigaatigoog,
- gargantuan grandmothers,
- beloved sky trees,
- your unfamiliar deep
- golden liquid
- the colour of overly boiled cedar tea back home
- catching the setting Salish sun
- as it trickles down
- your deeply etched long barkskin
- in copious thin rivers
- culminating into full, round orbs
- of glistening, sticky sap
- that hang there
- tiny, full, heavy
- reflecting the day
- (and my face squinting into you)
- makes up
- for the disappointing absence
- of familiar perfume
- that emanates
- from your deep green
- when i rub you
- between my fingers
- press you to my nose
- still, i pause
- and press these palms
- against you, daily
- to and from the back door
- of this life,
- awed
- by your stature
- and grateful
- for your presence
i. Thetis Lake
- you, like lake
- of my girlhood
- lake,
- my teenage lake
- i give you everything,
- willingly, unwillingly:
- one pair
- of scratched, dated,
- needed
- boxy, Costco man-style
- glasses
- a worn-out,
- but still functional,
- black hair-tie
- one clear, red glass bead
- meticulously drawn
- from this deer-hide string
- spirit necklace
- ‘round my neck
- the new, pretty
- and delicate
- seed-bead bracelet
- made by Delsa Edwards,
- and sold by Delsa Edwards,
- for eight dollars
- on Pandora St.
- lake of my lake
- you rascal,
- deep fluid cup
- of summer siren-spirits
- buoyant,
- i hear rhythmic breath
- and recall dark,
- evening lake-waters
- of home,
- and girlhoods
- and boyhoods
- and fast fluttering
- teenage hearts
- rushing
- warm, lapping lulls
- spring-fed freshness
- chasing
- i feel you tickling,
- tugging at the copper
- on my wrist,
- the silver
- on my un-wedding
- finger
- if i make it across
- your wet body
- breast stroke
- back float
- front crawl
- tread,
- for sure
- next time,
- i bring tobacco
- and feast you right
- with berries
- and sugar,
- a love song
Photo by Flickr user Hefin Owen
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