Poem published in Creatures of the Intertidal Zone (Cinnamon Press 2007)

by Susan Richardson

The man who brings forth life from ice has left

and there was just one breath

between his last chip and the first   drip  drip  

from my wing tip –

one breath which bridged my birth and the birth of my death,

one brief breath of perfection.

Those in charge claim they wish to save me.

They pose for photos right beside me,

arms thrown round the shape which was, a moment ago,

my shoulder.

Click click, shiny smiles:

meanwhile, their hands’ heat hastens my decay.

I dream of being carved from an arctic of ice,

from a berg so big millennia would bridge my beginning

and my end.

With all my might I visualise white –

so hard I think I’m winning, 

till drip

drip –

my blubber’s thinned to nearly nothing.

I’m binge-eating heat against my will –

down goes the blistering pill of the sun with one swallow.

I won’t last, you know, much past tomorrow –

if you blinkblink   

you’ll miss my shift to liquid

from solid.

I resolve though, to dissolve with dignity

to brave the tingles    pins and needles        pain

as I pass from ice         to space

till all of me      

flippers to beak        fades to memory,

till even this

begins

to

           drip 

       drip

                    drip

Note: South Korean environmental artist, Byung-Soo Choi, specialises in sculpting penguins from blocks of ice, which he then leaves to melt outside Parliament buildings and at international environmental conferences.