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River

by Mariah Dear

 

ice moves out of the bay
what if she called herself a prostitute
histories work in big white hoods
tomorrows slut themselves red orange
but she didn’t
ice moves away from the birch castle molars
we could do that
bite like our sick wasn’t varnish
she called herself a sex worker
ice moves down the ladder
where the rot wrestles the spoon
and the milk is solid and the concave curdles
the cold water sings too
kingfishers howl
and the women stay home

 

Mariah Lynne Dear is a majestic woman who lives in Vancouver, British Columbia. She is a poet, fiction writer, feminist, nanny, and writing workshop facilitator. Since her spoken word poetry debut at age seventeen, she has traveled across Canada competing both individually and on teams representing the city of Vancouver. You can find out what Mariah is currently working on at http://mariahlynnedear.com!