Groans of the sea, breath crystallized,
Moans of the seals beyond glacier's edge,
ringing the bell of Roald's heart
He dogs the door of the hut,
flickering seal-oil light and powdered meat
await him, slab of ice masquerading as wood
Tonight it is two bites he can't swallow, easily,
Recoiling to think he can't take the feel of his hands
touching his face again, with hers so far away
01 February 2011
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Wow. Impressive.
ReplyDeletewow. this is chock full of hunger, desperation and loneliness.
ReplyDeleteCold, Bro', truly cold. But true on so many levels.
ReplyDeletenice.
ReplyDeleteThat's cold man. Coooooold.
ReplyDeleteWhat lat/long was that anyway?
Such ice is hard to take.
ReplyDelete