Archipelago: Ultima Thule

                         island farthest north, in perpetual daylight

Terrible continent no one has ridden,

I come from a country near ruin,

       from a forest lit only by rifle fire,

 where leaves are torn tongues

grown from plucked-out eyes,

       where a boy, fallen from a tree,

lies bleeding for the wolves,

 where men kill and then wash

       the blood from their hands

 into the rivers. I drank that water

and washed my feet in it.

       Here I rinse my face in this light,

 drink this snow, a primordial moment

I cup in my hands, now so cold

       they’ve begun to blacken

from frost. The bones of the island

moan as I walk across them,

       opening malignant flowers

of sound across the ground.

Wind deepens the wounds

       I leave with my boots. Nothing

is well. Even death’s bones

have broken so many times

       they have no symmetry, but still

death is dutiful, I will be dutiful—

I will excavate the artifact,

       sift shadows from the shadowless.

   And I’ll be true to my love

if my love is not true to me.