By Jeremy Chu
Grandpa shifted his stare
from behind the wheel,
met his daydream where
Fraser River met shoreline
and fed it to me:
you know what’s under there?
The word Crab came jagged through
the island consonants of his speech,
though words kept coming,
How their many rich bodies
must be splayed under the water’s
edge, How a single outboard engine
and a modest collection of traps
would bring haul to hand.
We held the idea like breath
as we passed the slough, entered
the tunnel that bayoneted
through the river
and bled into town,
the West
remaining rather unwon.
Jeremy Chu is a Filipino-Chinese poet, writing as a guest on the unceded territories of the Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) and xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam) Nations. Chu's work has been featured in W49 and Pocket Lint Magazine. His writing wonders: Does love reveal itself differently, the further one crosses the Pacific?