Sleeping Buddies

I search the medicine cabinet 

for melatonin — my pineal gland 

doesn’t produce enough for me. 

I’ve lost my circadian rhythm because 

at night, I think of the polar bears. 

I imagine their daunt faces and solitary 


walks along the tundra, white like clean 

bedsheets that marquee and ripple towards

the mattress. The bear swims the polynyas 

for seals, but shouldn’t trust the annual ice 

covering. I don’t trust myself or the way 

my brain decides who I am. I can 


count this blessing. In this city, Ursa Major 

is gone, Ursa Minor is gone and I’m weary 

of sleeping alone. Polar bears have nothing 

but themselves. Sometimes, under this lonely 

sky, the bears harbour an embrace. They stray 

into slumber. 

Jessie Peitsch is an emerging writer from Kelowna, British Columbia. She is taking her bachelor of arts in English and Creative writing at the University of British Columbia Okanagan and is pursing a career in writing.