Anjali is very competitive
chafes at second placing
i pretend she’s the reason
i’m pumping my paddle
past mid-life muscle ache
but i fear the photo gives my fight away

Anjali is very competitive
chafes at second placing
i pretend she’s the reason
i’m pumping my paddle
past mid-life muscle ache
but i fear the photo gives my fight away

the grime comes mixed in with smiles, sunlight and welcome
the indigent on the mattress round the corner from microcenter swank
i suppress the horror stories from middle american well-meaners
yet clutch my satchel closer strolling into San Telmo
wonder if i should regret having no reception for the two young men
who call out as i pass

the thing about the cliche
it’s been said before
often said better
occasionally worse
overdone
trite
but
left unsaid
is like betrayal
in Mikkelson bay
the chocolate is hot
and salted with farewell


we humans love our penguins, it’s not doubted
when oohs and aahs are polled and tabulated
gentoo, chinstrap or adelie
triumph over gull, tern, shag (the bird, and maybe the activity)

how chuffed we are to learn
(from steve)
our feelings aren’t unrequited
gentoos, it appear, love back the human presence
liking to nest where people have peopled
choosing this old Argentine search and rescue shack
as the site for their conquest
a penguin outhouse?
an ice-boat?

Captain Oliver broke the news last night
unfriendly winds and currents gather in the drake
wait upon explorer’s parting wake
it’s time, too soon, for turn-abouting
home a-heading, ceding our southing

farther south into Lemaire than any vessel in this thaw
we trawl through brash ice
seeking activities for the afternoon
(as if wonder needs our doing to be real)
the argentine islands are iced inaccessible
but the captain calls a pit stop
to deliver reparation tools
to faraday base
(now under ukraine management)
to refurbish a ramshackle
but, i’m assured, historic
hut
watching a leopard seal
i miss the hut’s significance
entirely


it’s a north wind, says Kim
that blisters us off our feet
on booth island where we
are first boots off-boat this season
to the left we lay the year’s new trail up Charcote’s Cairn
the gale so fierce that hugging the hill
i finally feel expedition-worn, scott and shackleton worthy
hoary, weather-beaten and, at the edge, the first true fear of fall

Charcote took two ships south last century’s turn
wintering deliberately, frozen in fast ice
chosing his crew for fortitude to last
through tunnel of perpetual night
some scientists, some explorers and a novelist
his transmission post today a fallen crucifix
swept downhill, we skirt the roiled bay
whipped into black ungruent gruel

yet a family of crabeater seals frolic unimpressed
among the feather-tailed penguins
`
