Icebergs (Part I)
1. Two Icebergs
Promises at dawn
Amount to nothing, at twilight.
She waits, she does
through sluggish afternoon, air conditioning
traffic crawling below
And worse,
Doom and Fate and Old:
the terror of
drying up before her time
It seems to her that always
he is spent by the day,
Programmed for the ground
Dashed, torn upon the curb
an accident victim
The accident of his Life
Just confounds him
She waits, she does.
But just so
Sound replaces light
Motion replaces reason
Lust replaces motivation
Frost replaces feeling
*****
2. The Frost
He is Sent out On an iceberg
Into the wide North Sea
No spear,
No fur
An expedition of one
In the towers
of the Trees
Crawling on bloody knees
he gathers the earth
in slabs of clay
Around his mud-streaked body
night falls
wind howls through corridors of fir
Snowladen and Black
A little further North
North seems right
*******
3. Suites
Credit goes to the crazy ones
Checking in, Checking out
Of their private hotel suites
She is one of those now
From the plastic pink deck chair
from the hotel’s penthouse
suddenly she knows the shape of this skyline
They all slide back, the details
like a row of dusty books removed from a shelf
then shoved back in all at once
A suite of Useless memories
that may as well be lies
His bed was over here, And over here the closet
Where above the suits and ties,
sat old primary school shoes
And a flimsy diorama he had made as a child, of the solar system
Often she stared at the diorama in the early morning beside him
And wondered how they two had happened to collide
in all the billions of miles of Space.
She couldn’t say now if in that whole of that solar system
he still existed anywhere
The solar system of faded crepe paper and cardboard
smeared with Elmer’s paste
Yellowed, decade-hardened;
She wonders where it is
She wishes she had kept it.