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Edges of the Williston

Four of us,
three spare tires two jerrycans
just in case

make our way up the Finlay road
down the Davis road hanging on to ragged edges
above a submerged forest

Alien Kokanee surged up past slimy sculpins and mayflies
in September — past stones and stoneflies —
to their deaths in mistaken cemeteries

Another truck in the bush
bullet holes smashed windows rust
south of Tsay Keh: “My dad flipped his truck last night.”

“Oh, is he ok?”
“I don’t care, he left me when I was five – if he was
in bad shape I’d have heard about it by now.”

Lynx porcupine hare wolf fox grouse
the burbot with a broken back in October snow
the abandoned donkey on the Swannell

Three swans and a sow and her cub
and two bear hunters
and the horses at Fort Grahame looking for oats

Aley Stevenson Bruin Tenakihi Osilinka
tree-choked arms of the Ospika and Omineca
we’re all hanging on to ragged edges