If I were to write you a letter, instead of paper
I would choose split driftwood I fished out of the river,
the piece which was in a terrible hurry to get somewhere
Instead of pen and ink
I might choose a wimble for its swagger
or a kitchen knife for its common sense
And I would make sure I composed it next to Thiessen Saskatoons
reaching around occasionally to snag a berry or two.
tasting them i am reminded of all that is bitter and sweet.

It might start as all letters of antiquity.
Dear friend or dear lover
I miss how our language stacked carelessly
atop eachother…

I bumped into a friend during my walk.
We stopped to chat for a minute or two and
I noticed a fresh scar
On his cheek next to his nose.
It wasn’t from hockey.
He had a malignancy removed and has
made a full recovery.
To a certain degree
most of us spend a little time carving out malignancies.

If I were to write you a letter I would tell you
When I pulled out my own stitches
The affliction let out
it flaked off as a palpable dust
which ran through my fingers and
collected at my feet.
I swirled my running shoe through the remains
and coughed.
The juice of velvety undertones pooled
in my mouth
dripped from my lips.
it stained the word
"carelessly".
I set the driftwood out in the sun
to bake.