Snow Goggles: Whalebone and Sinew

Horizontal strapped to my brow as if

I’m a zeppelin in need of steadying, in need

of a false horizon to quell my vertigo.

This pair I’ve carved from the jawbone

of a whale —I don’t know what kind—

picked up on a beach of old slaughter.

I chipped and carved the bone, I dug

a narrow trench for light to wash through,

thin flood instead of deluge.

Without them:

                                  Mirage mirage

               glare unshadowed

           and where the earth’s edge flatlines

mountains of drift in suspension

Last week, sledging, I took them off

and the liquid in my eyes went solid—

I could not close my lids. Stumbledrunk

over floes and chasms, as if darkness

and not light surrounded me.

For several minutes there was no respite

from looking, nothing

to narrow the terrible scape.