Two Poems

A Perilous Initiation to Flight
I am an occasional sport
among the sometimes,
a natural curiosity:
bedeviled, undeserving,
temporarily stalled and
shattered to ruin;
a terminal morraine,
a blue band of ice,
paused to land briefly
here and there.

In Nearly Simultaneous Thrusts
I am reflected;
a science in swadling
clothes. Less and less
an artificial birth,
creeping and sliding,
my rate scarcely that:
Icelandic, ultracold,
frozen to bedrock.
I am a wind-up doll,
licking and rocking,
weakened, repartitioned;
a circle of sky, the mouth
of the moulin, divided
in two like a pair
of trousers.
Utterly out of place,
emerging onto a plateau
less glamorous but
stretching to the horizon:
my basal sliding,
impassive; the speed
of my creep; my ice-house,
my exaggerated grandeur;
my eloquence;
my ache.  
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