Mending Friendships
       

nitakoten ayiwinisa
ekiskisiyân ekwa ninapwekinen
nimiskan wâpamon
pastipayiw enipâyânihk

I do not see my friend for three moons.
Orcas have died in the plumes from gas
and unreturned salmon in separated seas.

I nursed and grew attached
to a curable but lethal infection.
My friend used to nurse me,
coax me back from ragged breaths
with spells known to the daughters
of Asclepius. They came at a cost.
I cough asthmatic and tell myself
there's a problem. I tell
my newfound comfort, self-pity,
you're killing me.

A doctor prescribed Promethean pain,
chained to a rock at sea.

My recovery was not quick.

I know I must ask—

glide from seaborne shackles
bid Hades farewell,
in preparation for her answer

or the lack thereof. My eyes burn
as they open from beneath the tide, see
the sun through stained glass liquid, bubbles
float to the surface where her figure
appears at the edge of the beach.

I ask my friend,

Can I match your spells
or the heart it took to cast them?

She hesitates,

I'm only here because the closest to home I can get
is being close to water.

After she swims, we shake off the sea.

The waves foam Poseidon on the riverbank
but I have found dry land with her
and the storms uncloud.

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Copyright © 2020 Tawahum Bige All rights reserved
from CV2
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission