National Poetry Month : Michael Edwards,

life depends

I scrub bottles like life depends

on pristine plastics containing

nutrients, feeding my son,

a fawn bedded down

in a clear acrylic hollow.

Intubated, breathing forest air

  he inhales triple-filtration,

    then exhales swamped lungs draining

into a nursery of fallen logs,

a vine maple’s new shoots reach long

and overlap the forest road

I travel at night to visit him,

see him sleep sound

in the domain of deer

creatures soundless

their long legs elegant and

quiet on crisp leaves,

transmit nothing.

And the wolves never loped so near,

heartless panting pushes through

to morning and eyes burn like

amethyst  emerald  topaz  lit by

plug-in suns that blink

at a life blanketed, warm and new.

I stay on the road, sing while they pass

the bed, a safe-haven

protection from graceless famishing,

hot breath and whiskers pull back

as dawn beeps and chimes

a digital bird chorus, 8-bit chirps.

And thunder rolls down Okanagan Lake

at flood stage everything flushes out,

the sky cracks with low-voltage lightning.

Now with bottles clean and drying,

his tiny eyes squint and follow

shadows while I sing to him every

pitchless song like life depends.

Michael Edwards is an emerging poet and writer living in Vancouver, BC on traditional unceded Coast Salish territories. He is currently in The Writer’s Studio at SFU (online), where he is under the mentorship of poet Kayla Czaga. He is also editor of the new online publication, Red Alder Review.

on Twitter: @michaelwrites1
Red Alder on Twitter:  @AlderReview