Svalbard

Posted on February 3, 2012 by James Brush

I stare at Svalbard on the wall map:
wind-whipped polar seas and all
the world’s seeds stored for years
against armageddon and ambition.

Ten thousand stalks of corn in rows.

I watch a woman lonely stare
across thickening seas, the stars
out most days, bright and forgettable
twinkling motes of TV static
against the day going black.

Crushed beneath deep winter’s snows.

How many months till the whalers’ shack
falls silent? She shivers, kicks
at the tracks in pebbled stone,
pulls the emergency parka tight
against her wasting frame.

The fever comes and goes.

About James Brush

James Brush lives in Austin, TX where he teaches English, writes, blogs and attempts to get outside as much as possible.
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10 Responses to Svalbard

  1. angie says:
    February 4, 2012 at 2:30 pm

    oh, this one stopped me in my tracks. (the reading-in-a-reader-sort of tracks…) falling right into the map. wonderful work, james.

  2. Anjuli says:
    February 5, 2012 at 12:01 am

    this is a marvelous piece

  3. craftygreenpoet says:
    February 5, 2012 at 7:46 am

    I particularly like the way you’ve used the one line stanzas in this. Really add to the effect. Excellent poem.

    • James says:
      February 13, 2012 at 9:11 pm

      Thanks, CGP. I’m really glad to hear that worked for you. I’ve been tinkering with this since November and those one-line bits were the last thing I did and that’s when it felt done.

  4. Laurie Kolp says:
    February 5, 2012 at 8:58 am

    Wow, James… this really packs a punch. I really like:

    She shivers, kicks
    at the tracks in pebbled stone,
    pulls the emergency parka tight
    against her wasting frame

  5. Dick says:
    February 11, 2012 at 7:03 am

    Yes, as CGP notes, form and content combining to excellent effect here. Vivid and unsettling.

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