“More than 1,420 people died of illicit-drug overdoses in BC in 2017, the ‘most tragic year ever.’” – CBC News

Death is an ant under your shoe,
the unwatered spider plant,
a grain of fentanyl
thinner than a needle
of Douglas fir.


I search the rainforest for names
of the dead.
Unlike the newspaper,
there are no statistics here,
only red alder, foxglove, sword fern.


Vancouver grew so sick
of rain it built a coffee shop
on every corner.

How many downpours
until we upend earth
for solutions?

How many deaths?


I find an obituary
etched into the skin
of an arbutus.
Alan enjoyed great food,
especially prosciutto.

Overhead, a barred owl