Eclipse

Waking sweaty, ears ringing, in my blanket nest
Jumbled half light in the cabin
It’s 2am.

At the door, you ask our plans
Ultimately, death
I say, I think
Tell myself I’m still asleep

Smoky haze on the horizon
Behind the lake
Candy-pink edges the only proof
Of the sun, spinning before the eclipse

Despite my flippancy
The plan involves treading the spine of Ovayok
(His falling down and dying made a ribbed mountain)
Approaching, half the town
Perches already, or scales the steep sides

I leave you all sprawled
At the top of the first rise
Keep going

Wind, warm animal breath from the head
Damp and alive
Tugs my clothes, whistles in my coat

Passing those I know
(Hey, Kate)
And those I don’t
Smile anyway
It’s their mountain

As I approach, one woman turns from contemplation
Kate. What time does it start?
I look at my watch but I already know the answer. Now.
The answer confuses. The sun hides.

Past scattered inukshuks and teenagers
Eyes slide away
Don’t know where I’m going or why
I need to walk but the
wind keeps blowing against
me and some watchers are
higher still and
then the sun stops.

I turn around.
Suddenly everything is downhill fast
and the light is grey
and then I’m in Ovayok’s belly button
in the middle of the night
with a whole bunch of people
and it’s dark.