We are floating here in

A radioactive puddle of all sorrows.
Port Hope, no hope
An endless, useless search

With

wrapped around

our eyes
our hands
our feet

We can’t breathe here in the ruins of the displaced

What happens if I

you from me?

Will I keep floating? or will I drown?

All these heritage buildings and photographs of faces that planted themselves at the center of a history that didn't pertain to them. Erasing all that came before. They dumped themselves into Port Hope like the uranium thats tainted all that it used to be. All these faces but none that belong