PoetryRepairShop
CONTEMPORARY INTERNATIONAL POETRY
issue 9905:13
Coral Hull

Travel north, where all swims in the circulation of an arctic ocean. It is an emerald adventure circling the pole like a plug. Carrying crunched ships stick in the ice sideways for days. The bearded seal drops its voice like a thread from a cliff. The ocean is webbed with the mating calls thrown overboard like streamers. We are captives of ice, streaked by seals, rolling grey wrecks. And further to the south, I'm a trembling aspen with suckers jumping out of earth into the neigbourhood. There was a sucker from myself to the post office, the Safeways, Little Sam's Service Station, the hairdressers, my girlfriend's house, Royal park where I walked the dogs each afternoon, the gym. Each day I travelled along my own arms to the places where I was recreated. Mainly I was acknowledged by proprietors and shop owners. In this way I identify and place myself. Now travelling, I am like a strand of prairie grass, the north wind in my root system.

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