but have you ever scratched one?
when the skin of a bone fails
marrow comes forward to knit
reclaiming what the bone struggled to hold
blood’s purpose –
each starting place a wound
each ending a geography re-made
I guess spring comes for all of us
there’s no judgement in the thaw
revealing things
long buried in the cold
and lack of movement
like a child frozen
by the sound of their foster parents stirring
as though the air was made of broken glass
waiting for the smallest twitch
but we aren’t made for stillness
and the blood must do its work
because it runs wildly outward
like birds fleeing a forest fire
we can’t control how much will be lost to us
don’t know what parts will dry
which ones will stay to form flesh
and I feel like a fool
who can’t look at their lover’s injury
turned away
denying the cut
screaming at imagined things
I wrote once that you felt like a scratch
the newest part of me
that I’m still afraid to look at
I don’t know why –
all injuries feel the same to me now
no difference between
a room full of knives
and a tear in my skin
from which something might grow
burgundy
is my favourite colour
the mix of blood and earth
tells of time
and age
a bond as unbreakable
as self
and home
reminds me of
blood flooding into the syringe
richer than darkness
telling of the day’s work
the constant burden
of carrying toxic things
introduced —
but still needed
in its time
others can’t accept
with all the things inside you
that you’d still flow
thick with debris
a host for things
society shouldn’t want
stronger for the effort
it takes to remain wild
and beautiful
in the face of interactions that reduce you to ash –
the faded product of a spent force
but I like that
being the dust of long-dead embers
so small that we’re barely seen
though our existence
fuels the growth of all things
you can hear the earth sigh
watch a cloud of fury long in the making
paint the sky
don’t be fooled
it’s not the explosions you should fear
be careful not to miss
the slow and certain crawl that follows –
when the earth moves like blood
fighting the air
breaking the walls of its last push
railing against its former self
this fury is a long dance
it’s the vibration of many old bones
the excited cheer of millions
before the earth rises to swallow
its destroyer
Tyler Pennock @onanankkwaap is a two-spirit adoptee from a Cree and Métis family around the Lesser Slave Lake area of Alberta. They are a graduate of Guelph University’s Creative Writing MFA program. They currently live in Toronto, where they have worked as an educator and community worker for over ten years.
Banner, Images & Page Design: Robert Frede Kenter @frede_kenter
IceFloe Press 