Friday, November 14, 2008


    for Antarctica and her rebel wind 

She never sleeps deep, REM sleep.
No. She tosses and turns, cannot lie still

with bones and blood at ease, always keeps one eye 
open. The wind might stir at any time

touch her cold white skin, travel 
every willing curve and contour. She hears him 

long before he comes without warning
his hands trace her upper valleys, her mountains and hanging glaciers

travel her frozen coastline. She anticipates him
as the beloved awaits a lover. There's nothing silent

or passive about them. And when all is said and done
they both know their meeting will shake them

it always does
but see, it's nothing more than temporary dishevelment.

Theirs is a relationship refined
by this curiously lyrical insistence. 

CB 2006

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