On the trail at Chutes Provincial Park,
at the edge of River aux Sables,
an information plinth that’s faded
over fifteen years’ of weather, so we can
still see the lines of the map, but not the text.
Not as clear as it should be, clouded subtext.
A Maple Luther moth marks the spot, next to the pale words
with a sentence that begins “Trilliums, Canadian bunchberry,
Spotted Joe Pye weed, Bog Labrador Tea, and Swamp Milkweed
are native to this area.” Don’t pick the trilliums, protected
by provincial law, and don’t take away pebbles, bit of fern
for pressing in books, or toss grapes into the water near
where the stone chairs grain themselves smoothly,
as if they’re real wood instead of geological matter.
If we get lost, go off the path, the plinth and its moth
will remain and remind us of which direction we need
to follow. Don’t worry, you say, it’s a loop—we can’t get lost.
Later, I will recall this conversation, your voice gone now,
and I will know the moth has flown, the fern lined trail
a maze of memory I can’t find my way out of, wishing
I’d read the signs more carefully instead of
watching out for poison ivy.
The variable was always the moth,
ready to lift off, never one to stay
in a single place for too long.
—
Kim Fahner lives and writes in Sudbury, Ontario, Canada. Her latest book, a novel, is The Donoghue Girl (Latitude 46, 2024). Her next collection of poems, The Pollination Field, will be published by Turnstone Press in Spring 2025. Kim is the First Vice-Chair of The Writers’ Union of Canada. She may be reached via her website at www.kimfahner.com.
