Photo Art by Michael Dooley
Mackenzie River
Romantical, maniacal
sugar cherry girl—honey, you are handsome,
with skin the depth of mountains
and hair imperfect like the Mackenzie River
in our neighbourhood backyard,
sweet and intriguing with always a little dirt
below
taken from the local national park
you're digging in, to cultivate the roses
of friendship and thrill. We share
nothing else
but our past, history
estranged behind us. Are you still
the eager filmmaker,
the Toblerone breaker,
the earth mother,
the acrylic rainbow after the storm goes?
I am still
seventeen, without
sugar water and prism colour. Overthinking
on all the girls I've loved before
who not once came close,
to me. Sweet pea, you are identical
to boreal folklore.
