Poem: A Lovesong

When my lover was made,

Her skin was the smooth pinseal

Of the fresh catch,

Her teeth the white stones,

Marking the paths on dark beaches—

When my lover was made,

Her hands were crafted of antlers,

The strong, narrow instruments

Of the stately caribou,

The waving signal to make way back home—

When my lover was made,

Her laugh was pulled from northern lights,

Placed in her belly,

Warming to the ears and cheek

Lighting the way to her people—

When my lover was made,

Her eyes were made of the deep,

The dark pools where canoes sink,

Where men are lost,

Where there they stay—

When my lover was made,

Nature made her finest.

When my lover was made,

Nature took her rest.