Mahaila Smith (any pronouns) is a young, enby femme writer, living and working on the traditional territory of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg in Ottawa, Ontario. They are one of the co-editors for The Sprawl Mag (thesprawlmag.ca). They like learning theory and writing spec poetry. Their debut chapbook, Claw Machine, was published by Anstruther Press in 2020.
It is an exchange of matter;
all density and surface area must
be accounted for.
A duck might walk through and in its
place will crawl a new and aggressive slime mold.
Or you might throw in a teacup
and an arcing, steaming, porous red rock
will arrive at your feet.
It gets a little more complicated with people.
And you hope that you will live long enough to
see what’s on the other side.
But a lot of people forget that fractionally,
improbably, sometimes, a version of yourself
who is approximately the same age and build
will step into your place
and pick up where you left off,
confusing your current friends and family.
Particularly if you ever decide you want to come back.