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Common House Magazine

There or Mine

Keelan Buck

You told me to go

among the mountains

so that when I

did, I saw your

voice, heard your

body, felt the turn

of your head


Not in the

crescendo wind, on the

statue outcrops, or

through the tree-dance

but rather across the

burn-scape, in the

sapling webs, beneath the

trail muck


              I was familiar

              with the act of

              impression without

              wanting to

              be seen


Yes, I use these tricks

to talk to people

underwriting them with a

quiet hope that such

febrility is human and

not mine


So would you tell her

that when she whispered

into the space above

my chest I could

recall only the imagined

lash of her tongue for my

having dared to editorialize

the circumstances


Would you tell her

that yesterday a rockslide

took some and buried them

soft addenda to the

glacial valley


              I recognized at once

              the manner of

              brutality laced with

              a serious decency

              as hers

Keelan Buck loves the mind, the heart, language, music, his city (and yours), laughter, and storytelling. In verse he finds license to love them all at once. Keelan has been writing poems for himself and those close to him since childhood. You can find his long-form journalism and short fiction in The Fulcrum. Born and raised in Ottawa, he hasn’t run away yet.

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