James C. Baloian

1/

At Harper’s Bend
the sky breathes
hunger’s scent like the bear.

Moose nose the ice for water plant
only to find their shadows.

Caribou, hair thick with snow,
move in twos their tongues
tied together like a compass/

There are no seasons, here,
only ice holding the landscape captive.

2/

Foot beats on the path
from the forest the mad river’s laugh
His shadow climbs
from the throats of gullies
to consider the end of day.
Hooking seal meat to twine
he lowers it into to the lake and waits.

Below, eyes wait
gulping their breaths
like the flames of a lantern.