I waited for rescue until like a stoned kitten
the sun pawed over the horizon. I learned that ice weasels
come out at night. Buckaroo, I was panic

stricken. I still struggle like a drowning
man to retrieve my strength. Is there any safety
for me now? Must I yank these shards

of ice out, needle by needle? My chestnut,
my little wonder, your daddy taught me love
is a snowmobile darting across the tundra. At first

his touches were like a suede glove. The moon’s
shadow, a penumbra. Then came his death
like a rough shove. You’re such a pipsqueak,

but still, my innocent pumpkin face, I must
tell you your daddy taught me that honor & life
are not certain. Then his damned snowmobile

flipped & everything was mottled bruises – geranium
red, black & blue – crusted slashes & closed
eyelids.  He left me pinned underneath,

the tracks spinning.