untitled, like the future

by waaseyaa'sin christine sy

let the first entry
for this waabigwan giizis
this flowery moon
be a highway
be a highway
smothered in
humid twilight
and eager green

let it be
bright yellow lines
and white on asphalt
with too loud
“Time,” lost souls, fish bowls,
“Strangers” talking about dew
and tides and inside your view,
let it be liberating
loud drrrty lyrics
to match the sultry
weight of this
late spring air
wet skin, heavy breathing
because everything is so thick

let it be everything
that can’t be seen
up ahead beyond those
crazy unknowingness
in falling day,
rising night
wavering light

because if i can’t have
my settler lilac smells
smashed against
russet brick walls
through open windows
at dusk,
crushed purple
flushed pink
innocent white blooms
carried on the winds
of a boiling river
in front of menacing grey skies
streaked with sunshine

because if i can’t
have the intoxication

because if i can’t have
the past

i will have the future
for the next twenty-three miles
of solitude

just me
dashboard lights
and some anishinaabe
travelling med’cin,
this flowering moon.