"What's the world for you if you can't make it up the way you want."

-Jazz, Toni Morrison


Development

Development

I’m an island
Forever flanked
In olive walls

With artwork sagging
Beneath the weight of
Investment, rest in
These scattered litters
Catalogued correspondence
Crumpled paper of rejection

I took a step:
From yellow blades
Dancing in rows
Tethered into the prairies
Over oil country, it’s
Bubbling black heart packed
Tightly in cerulean peanuts
Tall Styrofoam pine boughs
Stumbling out of the world
Swarming with plastic and grain

Now:
I feel the waves
As I step over grid work
Consuming the mountains reach
Into the type
Of solitude only seen
In the eyes of a clock face
Staring into an opening shift
And the eddy pools waiting
Wading into the stream

You can feel the gauze
Grow heavy, leaden with
Time, this island aches
Oh, Atlantis, what have they
Done to you?


Prairie Dyck is a writer currently studying at Vancouver Island University. Prairie has poetry published by Belletrist Magazine and Paragon Press. Instagram: @dyckprairie

Cover photo by Angelina Odemchuk on Unsplash

The mourners

The mourners

Manna for Mama

Manna for Mama

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