by Marc Jampole
Hide, hide, where can I hide?
At the north-most point of land,
birdless, seal-free bar of frozen silt and gravel
bobbing in and out of Arctic waves.
Away, away…
to the highest point,
a glacial hood conceals a stormy past,
pebbled whirlwinds batter yellow bands
of limestone ridges rising lifelessly beyond the pluck-line.
…from reminders of pain
at the lowest point
below the ocean,
plant-like microbes gobble acid spewed from boiling vents,
soft-shelled shapeless microscopic beasties
float in hiss.
Remote from living things.
Furthest point from any ocean,
landlocked pole of inaccessibility,
tent-spotted desert
spider thirsty withered parched
and dry dry white white…
Hide, hide, where can I hide?
Originally published in The Evansville Review #20 (2010)
Marc Jampole
5889 Aylesboro Avenue
Pittsburgh, PA 15217
mjampole@verizon.net
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