I foretold this journey.
Bundled in wolf skins, sitting together
in the front of the dogsled.
Our belongings neatly wrapped
and tied up with rawhide. .

Around us the arctic sunset,
the far mountain, the drifting ice
a giant jigsaw puzzle in the sea.
And mountain and ice in flames
crossed with silver, with lead.

I know I should look, that I never
will see this sight again.
But my eyes are too heavy, my head
won’t lift from your shoulder.
The sled glides on toward the ice.

The sun sinks rapidly lower.
I feel your warmth, your hard body,
its long muscles and ligaments through the fur.
We will never get off this sled.
I remember I knew.