by Courtney Buder

We talk about roots and weathering the sleet.
Gorge ourselves on the acrid thaw into spring,
our soft footprints in the soil. The great pillar
will fall, rotted through. Soon there will come
a creeping crackle beneath the frantic thump
of mammal hearts. A relative cacophony, the
gust of long breath and grief like choking on
relief, relief.

Courtney Buder (she/they) is a writer and visual artist living in Fredericton, New Brunswick, on unsurrendered and unceded Wolastoqey land. Her work is published or forthcoming in Geist, Arc, Queen’s Quarterly, and The Common, among other places. She also co-edits a magazine called HOT SOUP. Find her online at courtneybuder.ca or on Instagram @courtneybuder.