Homesteading (i miss you)
Holding sunburnt breath, across bow valley
i thread & braid for the first time,
yr only acres away, across bow trail
ought i stand up from my desk? reach across chasm & confess?
white-knuckles spill no blood, i am paralyzed
seeking refuge in the dharma, Triratna, 3 jewels lined-up across bow river.
Urban farmlands terrify a young halfbreed boy, summer mosquito bites
sticking to expired paper transit tickets, route #13, or the Red line—
pray the gravity of the peace officer’s nightstick isn’t as harsh this time
before sending yr little brother off to an educated kindergarden.
Living underneath the purebred;—waiting within the deep heart of the new west:
gently burn the rosemary & sage, ring the Tibetan bowl
next to the quartz statue of John A. MacDonald;—
the textile misanga i fastened with my lips, not worn by anybody, (i promise i’m good).
the army of automated Klansmen draws nearer each day i forget to watch over you.
Taking public transit thru asphalt oceans, watching Rainbow-singing glass
reflects lemon sunlight on the Mohkínstsis tower, sprouting like a tree,
swaying below a survival-coloured skyline.
Cascades of Nose Hill crocuses encircle
the only remaining Hallmark™ card abandoned in Chinook Centre
written within are the sounds of the Siksika, the Piikuni, the Kainai, the Tsuut’ina
bludgeoned from the vocal cords of each heart i’ve fallen in love w/.
Yr friendship is the heaviest weight i’ve pulled,
giving me twilight-shaded bruises. sharpest paper cuts. poisoned insect bites.
