circle
a house, not a dwelling, a slightness. un-burrowed iffy protection. now
you: leaving. take leaving. walk all surround the house. in circle
the space. you, a key. you: hurt with oil and restored by use.
if you come across a bowl on the stone on the stump, reach across the bowl.
you be the body of water. you come to it. you come across
as if a wild creature. is this encounter like anything—
if it happens differently, is home different?
what if you come to a wall and the wall leans to a tree.
is that, was that, circle a house?
Elee Kraljii Gardiner [photo credit: Paul Joseph] is the author of the poetry
books Trauma Head (Anvil Press, 2018), a chapbook of the same name (Otter
Press, 2017), serpentine loop (Anvil Press,
2016), and the anthologies Against Death: 35 Essays on
Living (Anvil Press, forthcoming) and V6A: Writing from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside (Arsenal Pulp Press, 2012). eleekg.com
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