Four 5

Inuit see clearly

the aput

And the slow suffocation

accompanying it

if the wind could pierce it

you could breathe

the icy air

far away from

the bloody brush strokes

glistening upon the pack ice

left by the nattiq

dragged from their aglu

by the ever hungry 

ever silent 

ever searching Pihoqahiak.
© Erik Hansen 2016


Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s