It's Still Life

I Could Only Think …

this unlovable land where
gardens are a summer thing,

where snow shimmers
and the air finds freedom

and our language was in
parsnips and potatoes,
beetroot with its leaves

boiled ‘til soft and eaten
with a vinegar’s mother,

and I remember the sky
was open and wise, never
closing in on my world as

we set maps against stars,
and you’d say, Let’s go home,

your freezing hand in mine,
in promises and long breaths
that spilt all over me, and

back then I only thought of
its long darkened etched cold,
not the light and colour of it.

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Image: Houseboats of Yellowknife by Robbie Craig. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter.