spring dining

by Savi Hanning-Brown

the dust is awake 
and kicking. down on cook street 
the blue-collar boys 
in their traffic cone nests, the single lane
flocking. i want to throw out 
every smile and nod i can muster
enough to knock something over.

a nod to the camas confetti
the driftwood towers
the couples making out
there is a tide watering wilted hearts 
an architecture of bodies, their sunscreened
shapes. the strands tucked back
brushed, braided. the entrails
of kelp         the kids left out
under solar supervision: pink
and all screaming something 
slimy and urgent.
the digging hands and show off
palms. the sudden currency
of beach glass.

here we are again
in the back pocket of spring 
the holy unpredictable mess of it.
the lilacs are nearly ajar and
everything else: eager and hungry.
a verdant phosphorescence forgotten
in winter’s amnesia. a biting, 
endless sprawl. a shotgun
in the face of yesterday –
cocked and ready 
to feed you to the green. 

Savi Hanning-Brown was raised in the rural mountains of Sinixt territory. She studied creative writing at Selkirk College, and later received a B.A. in Anthropology and Environmental Studies on the west coast. Savi has been making things with her hands for as long as she can remember. To her, the process of poetry resembles sifting matter, or unearthing things. She is grateful to now reside on Lekwungen territory, where she works with plants and walks often.