Wear a mask
The air is poison
Choke on the ashes of Californian dreams
on the ghosts of Okanagan homes
As sick yellow skies melt into stifling nights
we wake from sweating nightmares
with Lytton on our lips
Wear a mask
Your breath is poison
Cross the street away from your neighbours
to show you love them
Choke down the wail in your throat
as hospitals crowd and care homes empty
Wear a mask
The air is tear gas
As bodies and riot gear clash
in Louisville, Minneapolis, Atlanta,
Minsk, Paris, and the Lekki Tollgate
As breath is stolen by knees on necks
and bullets in backs
Wear a mask but hold your breath
They can only do so much
About the Author
Tressa Ford is a queer writer and an eternal student. They were born and raised in the Kootenays, but have had many different homes. Their love of writing is born out of a deep and abiding respect for the power of stories.
