verse of the canuck

here I sit
on imaginary lines
that say I own everything

north of what you own;

every crooked lake,
snow-drenched stone.

And the cold’s been
inside my bones,
accomplice in name
to storms that
we have

the way for when summer grows
bored of

and no
love’s lost in transition.

here I gaze out from the ports,
starboard dreams stored so

knowing south of me
lies undoing;

the fool in me thinking
this lunacy
belongs to


One thought on “verse of the canuck

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