The Arctic Suicides

from Poems of Sleep Paralysis

 

Lost community with branches
A wad of snow
Faint and even, of this world
Spinning along infinite axes
Maybe, a feint, knowing it is under observation
And carrying on as if uninterested. Totem.
The wad chutes, impacts a rock wet with sunned icemelt
An unfinished sentence
The mind runs algorithms in want of meaning
Maybe, the wad would not partake in simony, kept opinions uncommon
It feels wrong being relieved of observation
So the fall is revised upon
The notion that all in the past is malleable to the mind
An odd wad of brilliance, unattached

 

Maybe, it could have held
Maybe, it could have buckled down, toed a line
Since, no thing remains but melt and slush