The Fieldstone Review

Baffin Bay Sun

Ice calves from a glacial tongue,
the past unlocks in a drifting sea,
sweetens the salt, melt rises
as the sun shines on and on,

shift of sheets, slip of stones,
but what do we know,

weight of Monday,
hump of Wednesday,
we hunt, peck, follow an etched trail,
sign the form overexposed in white,
eat mango on meringue, laugh in ale,

support the small head, fragile pulses,
honeyed milk drips,
no rain but the waves come,

no weapons of war but glistening towers
collapse in plumes, please reply,
when will you return north,
so long since you were seen,

memories of last winter,
loping dreams of webbed feet,
deep breathing,1 our throats thrum2
songs over lapping water.



1 In his introduction to Poems of the Inuit, John Robert Colombo notes that “the Inuktitut word for breath, anerca, also means poetry” (276). From In Fine Form: The Canadian Book of Form Poetry (ed. Kate Braid and Shandy Shreve. Richmond, BC: Raincoast, 2005).
2 Refers to Inuit throat singing.