I have traveled with you in my mind
to the north; me the student. you the teacher, forever.
many times
together on the floes,
above
the land of Eskimos.
you know the way
the ocean becomes clotted with ice the way pudding refuses to
separate, under-stirred. the way the seal-hunters only acknowledge our presence,
indignant; respectful?
together on the floes,
above
the land of Eskimos.
But, the Inuit teach us nothing about survival we
(you especially) have not known for years. we turn away
laughing, knowing we are the hunted;
laughing, still.
you, with the bad heart
me flailing all the way, of course.
what have we left, at best, on this speck of white ice
or green,
twenty years? If that.
and we are laughing, even crying
crying, because we know this is as far as we can travel
to the north; at least safely.
It is as far as we can travel alive.
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