Cold air isolates an ambulance siren, shattering the corduroy silence. In the forest, a fox cub coughs its first breath. I can know these things, but I cannot know you. You, the blue that escapes when a glacier rolls. A sweatless god of stories untold.
Lisa Alletson grew up in South Africa and the UK, and lives in Canada. She has poetry and prose forthcoming or published in New Ohio Review, The Lumiere Review, Sledgehammer Lit, Anti-Heroin Chic, and The Bangalore Review.