a poem about human smallness


Iceberg Breaking Free

Australian Antarctic Territory, midsummer

A penguin sneezes and the world erupts.

That grinding groan you hear

is the sound of a continent making love,

the blue mountain heaving and churning

under the flat white sheet.

Do you still think that if we weren’t here to listen

the sound would cease to be,

or have you understood at last

how small we are, how brief;

the things that used to mean so much

on our boiling bridge of words

count less than a seal’s snorts in a hole.

Published in Cyphers

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2 thoughts on “a poem about human smallness

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