Today’s the day we weave
a covering from threads
plucked off the glacier’s face.
Today’s the day we break
ice spikes. Practicing throwing,
watching glass daggers shatter.
Today we’ll see, floating loosely
on the green fjord, ice sculpted
by sun and wind and the sea’s fluidity.
Today, we’ll note sculptures created
by elimination not accrual, as if realness
was carved away, so what remains—
scaffolding not branches used to build
a structure for new tissue or to repair wounds—
rather an intricacy like glass antlers
that shatter if tapped.
Once, in Denali National Park, I saw
the arcs and curves of two large antlers
interlocked where bull moose fought
—to the death and we debate loss.