Wednesday, July 1, 2009

slowly

the concussions thump vaguely,
dimly spread through the icy flow.
one after another. there… and again.
there is no wind to speak of.
no current dragging limbs seaward.
only gravity: insistent, pressing.
the sounds grow distant,
the souls vacant,
and the glacier…
it trundles on
wayward
alone
lost.