it would appear (after all the big talk, slick walk)

that only today do we touch Antarctic proper

no islandic rock no more

it is continental shelf we tour

a glacier so frail

with a rumble and a roar

it sheds a slice

as we scale its shoulder

to perch near its eyes

before we take the tobbogan down

at the top i stayed a while

napped in warm snow

atop continental plinth

lapped in fortune’s gift