North
We are expected to accept the
corners of the map,
the turning arrows, the edges of town,
but North pulls,
so that we gravitate,
to its polished gold,
stripped back skin.
The further North we travel
the more we see
true North shipwrecked
on one crashing wave.
The sun is setting lately,
West, North West.
Electric legend.
One bright star.
The moon is half full for you.
Once the sun has gone.
The world will turn over.
So, run into it. Run.
Catriona Knapman is a Scottish writer and human rights worker based in Yangon, Burma. Her writing has been published in Guernica, Magma, Kweli and Tiferet, among others. Connect with her at www.facebook.com/luckydiplife or on Instagram @catrionaknapman.