A marble: melted and pressed and levelled

a lake that rests in the valley of mountains

we rent a canoe and when we step into it

it sways on the seamless water, sending ripples.

The glassy lake shatters when we paddle.

The oar enters the water with a moment of resistance

but we look behind us and the lake has healed over

stitched itself back together, unbroken

  no trace of us.

In the water is a reflection of the mountains

I can touch them below me with my fingertips

Atlantic cold and numbing, holding crystals in my palm

emerald waters and sapphire skies and lemon drop sun

vivid colours which eloquence cannot capture.

Our laughter is an electric insult to the placidity

it echoes, bouncing off the peaks,

reflecting off the trees and mocking in return.

“Shhhh,” the mountains whisper. “Shhhh.”

We become still, speaking with our eyes,

translating with our smiles, giggling under our breath

our canoe glides through the lake, our shoulders hunched.


This place speaks in tongue clickings and

bird peckings and tree brushings and duck landings

and water tricklings and glacier meltings and

insulted echoes, giving our voices back to us


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