I glance out across the water as you say,
“Look, you can almost see the US.” I answer,
“Do I have to?” fearing that my gaze might
receive a tariff. I mean no ill will to any person
on the other side, only that it’s odd, to share
this water, yet be neighbours that can no
longer ask to borrow each other’s milk.
I watch the Canadian flag flap so violently
in the wind that it might be ripped clean
off its pole. What a thing, to do away with
flags. Meanwhile, my son is squealing as
he runs around the boat. He doesn’t know
that we are floating on a chasm. A rift
between this world and that. Someday soon,
we will fight over this water. Someday soon,
there might not be enough to drink.
Alex Dawson
Alex Dawson is a writer, mom, wildlife photographer and ESL teacher from Toronto. She lives in Toronto, near Lake Ontario, and has spent many summers enjoying Lake Huron. Last year shepublished a nature fact poetry anthology, entitled,Upon Learning That, which reached #1 inpoetry anthologies on Amazon. She published her photo-poetry book,All these Living Thingsin the summer of 2024. Alex has also been published byThe Queen’s Quarterly,The BombayLiterary Review,Turning Leaf Journal,Livina PressandGather Poets. She writes withconstant curiosity and a desire to examine the threads of connection between nature, culture andidentity. Alex can be found on Instagram and Substack @alexdawcreates.