Some poems in Scar Atlas were written on beautiful Vancouver Island. Even its beauty made me think about have everything perishes.

On the Strait of Juan de Fuca

Walking shorelines under battered

beach house patios, we wonder how

far we would have to run from a tsunami,

how many of these glass walls would hold.

From the top of our climb we see mapped out

the geographic pinch we’re in

where a wave has nowhere to go

but up these placid streets. We’d learn

who said their prayers … whose SUV could float …

On our walk between rows of blooming trees

we imagine the end of it all, as if it’s seasoning,

the salty drop we need to call this love.

Colin Morton

colinmorton550@colintmorton