William Meinert

Aubade
 
The wind moves across an ice shelf,
                spreading sheets of frost.
                     Icy islands wander
                  to the horizon,
        finally fading
   to nothing.
                                   
            More came loose in the night.
            How much did we lose?
            How much is left?
            Again: some, and less.
 
The wind picks up
without a word.
                       
            There is no map, but
            they say there will be.
 
            When the mapmakers wake
            they will write their revision.
 
The wind sighs, though
it would prefer to howl.
 
            —I get up slow,
            and go wash my face.

William Meinert is an American poet currently living and working in Geneva, Switzerland. As a professional operatic bass, he has up to this point spent more time singing poetry than writing it, but now intends to balance the scales. His work will be published in The Orchards Poetry Journal and Paper Dragon in summer 2024.