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December 29, 2022
By Julia Dallaway
Prose

The Nordic Hut

Leaving you, I longed

for one lone hut, red against the

vast grey sea. Longed to sink

my boots into the snow, to seek

to spread the net of my spirit.

To be more than a sister, a friend,

a partner, when that cold courage

blustered through me.

I have now

forgotten

your name—or is it that I cannot

speak it? At this icy outpost, I’ve been

struck again

by love, after years of

burying and burying my body.

On darkening backroads, I beat back the rain

with all the fervour of heartbreak.

Nothing here

seems quite as wide-ranging—

quite so treacherous or thrilling—

as the journeys now available to me

in dreams and in memory.∎

 

Words by Julia Dallaway. Art by Rachel Jung. 

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