Sea Otter Catches Colonization Under a Rock Still salty Salish air in fall and the small flounder crunches between her teeth The otter numbers are up not like stocks but spirits She sits on a rock munching the discourse called trade that Spanish / Russian / British squeeze in the straits when skins came off with a sick sucking noise Globalization dribbles off her pelt, her nonchalance, her pregnant belly, this counter-colonial moment in English Bay, the tide just turning her satisfaction in being
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