Samantha Nock
Paige Lecoeur


my hands are small

with short fingers

a short attention span

and a long temper


my hands have driven trucks

down back country roads

with windows down

and laughter echoing

over canola yellow fields


this one is for my body


my hands have held the fingers

of lovers and entwined their hair

these hands have waved goodbye

and cleaned them from under her nails


this one is for northern prairie dirt


my hands have held stories

and songs

and screams


this one is for when tears don’t feel like ceremony


my hands have held keys between knuckles

have held fear in fists

have held the anger in that fear

have held the sadness in that anger


this one is for rivers that never stop flowing


my hands always have one finger pointing to the exit

even when they are at home


this one is for when mourning is a river


my hands have shuffled

the same deck of cards that

grandpa did

that kokum did

that mom did

that aunty did


this one is for when love and loving aren’t the same thing


my hands are ready to

burn it down;


rip a hole in the dirt

so that the next generation

of these hands

can dip them in the waters

where the rivers meet.


Illustration by Paige Lecoeur for Discorder Magazine


Samantha Nock is a Cree-Métis poet and writer from Dawson Creek, B.C.. Her family originates from Sakitawak or Île-à-la-Crosse, Saskatchewan. She has been published in GUTS Magazine, Red Rising Magazine, Shameless Magazine, and Māmawi-ācimowak: Lit, Crit, and Art Literary Journal. She cares about radical decolonization, coffee, corgis, and her two cats, Betty and Jughead. You can find her tweeting at @sammymarie.