Turning North

“I know what it’s like to freeze to death.”–James Taylor, “The Frozen Man”

There are replicas of the better parts
of us, hidden here in an ice floe
at the top of the world.

You always liked walking on ice
and took me with you
on your latest expedition.

I barely remember falling
thru that snow-bridge
dangling over big blue nothing.

You laughed and threw me a pick
on your sliding way to bottom,
left me here to find a fractured escape.

Though ice can shift,
the better parts of us will remain
here forever, moving in slow time.

Our popsicle bodies break down into sea–
the forgotten relics and terminal moraine
of a drifting perma-love.


Cold enough on a full-moon winter’s day for this one. 

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