I prepare to leave my glacier.
I try to keep the water warm
enough to wash my hands.
All day the outlines of ice
and frozen moth-patterns spread.
An ancient bear circles my
makeshift shelter. I can’t tell
if it means me harm. The sky
has been hollowed holes for stars
a wide burial-ground above us.
I never found the skyscrapers
but learned to sleep on fire.
Please forgive me.
For the end I carve an outline of my body
on layers of ice. Cracks appear from chest to wrist.
I sit for hours until even the sky looks frozen
until even my face sinks further beneath the surface.
I don’t know what I wanted to find.
I make my mind blank.
Yesterday I found a dead wolf carcass.
I’m turning myself one body part at a time.
I stretch the wolf’s fur over a low fire
and carefully clean out her skull.
A city has followed me like a dream that turns.
Today I will wear the wolf over my head my arms my throat.
It is better this way.