Leaving The Stone Igloo
yes, we have a hundred different names
for fire: blue, orange, red and yellow-flamed.
Long-tongued, smoky, fast or hissing.
We built this snow cave with a dog-team mason,
one winter when the bannock needed baking.
We crossed the Berring Straight of Breadlessness,
into the white blizzards of broken flour bags. We slept
in banks of dough, we dreamed of sweet thin crusts. Rub your
noses on our gifts just now. We’ll pave a new hearth with
pieces of tumble-down cairns, the ones they call Inukshuk.