Cape Evans

by Michele Bannister

Carve me remembrance in a block of ice:

wood waiting for the splinter,
iron-girdled against the press of ice
walls of boxes printed back into spam, peaches,
promises of warmth and blossom-scent left so far north.

Light through a window ever without cobwebs
slow-flowered into silver -
silver crystallised to mildew-flowers,
framing up all reminders of sails against the snow
lost now to penguins and aurora-glow.

cold-crisp and lanolin, paper and sacking.

Seal-stink a century old, horse-hair matted
into grit under the unconcerned waddle
of a penguin, remarking on no past exploratory hopes:
only welcoming the wind's lee.

October 20th, 2014