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ottawater: 12 - 29<br />
jesslyn<br />
gagno<br />
strangers.<br />
you’ll never know softness again,<br />
salted skin, your body a crack we left<br />
with the rest of our damage in ice<br />
if i can offer you one thing that<br />
thing would be feeling, something<br />
forgotten as sand drifted slowly to glass<br />
now you are shallow<br />
and tasteless, and we who are left<br />
are a stranger like many: hardened, alone<br />
as the sky drifts apart from the sea<br />
fibres.<br />
in fibres they’re still here<br />
to speak through drops of sweat, your<br />
voice seeking safety in song. stale breath<br />
past the paleness of my teeth is<br />
held by dust, powder on my<br />
face; my bitten mouth, dyed red,<br />
masks lips chapped by the cold. so<br />
send your scraps of paper, woven pieces:<br />
i’ll collect them with the lyrics you<br />
left steeping with your tea<br />
Shoshannah Ganz
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