• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 03
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The art of being alone reminds me
that I am not alone.

My imagination connects
my drain with the lake.
I wonder if Fish and Wildlife will
impose a catch and release on pike, just like
Arctic grayling.

I bend my knees and slide my upper body under the bath water.

The lake is filled by the surrounding hills.
It drains into a small river –
a tributary of a major river.
The water flows northeast
into another lake, river, lake, etc.
Finally, it tumbles into the Arctic Ocean.

I wriggle my fingers and make small waves.

The tip of the world
draws North America,
Europe and Asia together
inside the Arctic Circle.
Disputed international boundaries.
A friendly one fought with bottles of Danish and Canadian
alcohol and a flag swap.



ecosystems do not
recognize international borders,
human, municipal, provincial, national, and international
actions impact nature.

I move my legs from side to side, increasing the storm.

Since the world’s oceans are really
one interconnected sea,
my bathtub in northern Alberta connects me with New Zealand fjords,
with penguins swimming for days to feed their young
in over fished waters.

I feel like I’m drowning
in the fates of things outside my control.

I sit up, roll my shoulders, and
decide on one thing I can change.