River and bridge
and things that hover over:
smoke,
helicopter,
a nine-year-old girl.
Snow blurs the edges of advancing water,
ripples glowing, thirsty.
The mother searches the sky
for just a flash and
girl swings leg over rail, straddling
the edge, to look down.
Too innocent to wonder at
the far of fall,
the swift of current,
the gravity of never.
Published online August 02, 2016
Angeline Schellenberg’s first collection, Tell Them It Was Mozart, is forthcoming from Brick Books (fall 2016). Her chapbook Roads of Stone was published by the Alfred Gustav Press (2015). Her poems appear in Prairie Fire, CV2, TNQ, Rhubarb, Room, Geez, The Society and anthologies. She won third in the 2014 Banff Centre Bliss Carman Poetry Award Contest and was shortlisted for Arc’s 2015 Poem of the Year. Angeline lives in Winnipeg.
