1 Poem

by Mackenzie mcgee

On Bush lake

We walk on a foot of glass,
the navy stone surface
too sheer to be secure.

You stay behind me as we make a path
of single footsteps, yours in mine,
hoping the ice will trust the body
that’s friendly with its summer cousin.

The cold must love me better, you think,
thrusting your fingers into its mouth,
letting it bite so you can take
a picture of me.

It was silent here, in the years before you.
Our feet double packed the powder,
our voices shook the still air,
but we’ve stopped.

I turn, and you give me a train track smile,
a row of yellow cars careening
toward me, showing no signs of stopping.