Reminders

Kim Fahner

In one breath, under a shadowed night tree,

I wish to be a planet. I wish to turn slowly,

to see night become day over and over again,

to feel the throb of rhythm, the tattoo of

heartbeat at the place where the skin

is thinnest, at my wrist. Kiss me there.

Remind me that I have thin skin.

In one breath, when a crow flies above me,

I wish to be a branch. I wish to reach out,

fastened to trunk but leaning towards sky,

to feel the leaves flicker around me

and brush over my shoulders,

wind chimes belling in my ears. 

Remind me that I can fly.

In one breath, when I swim in a borrowed lake,

I wish to be a fish. I wish to slip through water,

fins and scales layering themselves, prismed,

as I dip and dive with spirit. This fish,

I think, will lead me away from shore,

from grasp of clothes, from press of gravity.

Remind me that I am free.

In one breath, in this slow inhale and exhale,

I make myself again, over and over,

until the planet stops turning, the branch

stops reaching, the fish stops swimming.

Kim Fahner lives and writes in Sudbury, Ontario. She was the fourth poet laureate of Sudbury (2016-18), and was the first woman appointed to the role. Kim's latest book of poems is These Wings (Pedlar Press, 2019). She is a member of the League of Canadian Poets, as well as a supporting member of the Playwrights' Guild of Canada. Currently, she is Ontario representative for the Writers' Union of Canada. Kim has recently had poems published in Room, Riddle Fence, and Prairie Fire. She may be reached via her author website at www.kimfahner.com