Sonja Johanson’s poem “Driving in Ablation Fog” appears in Volume 7 of The Found Poetry Review. Purchase the full volume.
I can touch all the way back to
where mist pivots
on the pingos;
pink gin seeming
to pour down the dull mirror. I’ve
mastered something —
soft bog walking?
glissading? — but
I’m lost. I won’t be sailing far.
Blue leaves peel off,
we have weather
instead of wine.
SOURCE: The Future of Ice by Gretel Ehrlich.