We hold hands
crossing the fleet street bridge
Look for fossils in the shale
the lacy fans of clam shells
calcite rings where crinoids used to coil
There’s a metaphor here
Something about history
Something about the way we grow and change

I look for garlic mustard
in the cliff’s shadow
while you kick through fresh-tilled soil
find hundred-year-old china
fused together by the fire
There’s a metaphor here too
Something about nourishment
Something about how things last despite disaster

The river is low            almost calm
We sip peach cider
share nachos on a patio
ringed with crocuses
wave to the waning moon
There’s a metaphor here, too
Something about sweetness
About how things move in circles
About coming back
to life again

ALLISON ARMSTRONG is a queer, polyamourous leather femme, a kitchen witch, and a Professional Naked Girl. Born in New Brunswick, she currently lives on unceded Algonquin territory in Ottawa. She has work published, or forthcoming, in Hyacinth Noir, Cuir & Queer Press, Coven Editions, Bywords.ca, Venus in Scorpio, and Rag Queen Periodical. Follow her on Twitter @amazon_syren.