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.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
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