Photograph by Sally Quon

Poem title: Photograph Poet name: Sally Quon Poem: In the photo, I am smiling, sitting high on the rocks after scaling the falls, recklessly.  As if to say, “Watch me.” Or “I dare you,” to my father-in-law.  The hike was his idea and, inexperienced though I was, I agreed to go. My sneakers were new, blisters  rose quickly as he marched along.  I thought there would be pauses, time to look, appreciate, time to breathe.  Forest and stream flew by at a relentless pace, me, panting to catch up.  Fourteen miles later we reached the base of the falls. “Wow,” he said, looking  up. “That’s really something.”  And he turned to go.  Dropping my pack,  I took my sore, screaming,  sneakered feet, walked into the water,  began to climb the falls.  I could hear him calling me back. Me, not listening. Slipping on moss covered stones. Cracking knees on boulders, icy  water numbing my hands.  I found a spot, sat down,  smiled fiercely—an act of defiance.  Screw you, Bob. End of poem. Credits and bio: Copyright © Sally Quon Sally Quon is a dirt-road diva and teller of tales, living and laughing on the traditional territories of the Syilx people in the Okanagan Valley. She has been shortlisted for Vallum Magazine’s Chapbook Prize two consecutive years and is an associate member of the League of Canadian Poets. Her personal blog, is where she posts her back-country adventures and photos.