Tundra, come in from the cold. Sit down
by firelight of this last world and thaw
your aching bones. If you remember
any stories, tell them now, before
the room dissolves and flows into sea.
Oceans overwhelm their shores and land
is all awash. Soon evolution
will run backward; we’ll be aquatic
once more. Tundra, you’re a pretty word
printed in waterlogged books. Tundra,
you’re the name of my unborn daughter.
You’re a faint lullaby I whisper
in my lover’s ear at night. Tundra,
you’re the straw harp I play in heaven.
Lay your frigid cheek against my lap;
let me strum you to sleep. Your strings
slice the tips of my fingers; speckles
of ice sprinkle out, glint on crimson
cloth. This is how I know you’ve entered
my heart, Tundra, with your frosted light.