I wandered soundless timeless aisles
listening for an hour to the click of my shoes and the clack of my train
packing for Iceland.

Powdered milk and salt and mimicry
sealed in foil against the cold.
They come in packs of five or six
(not unlike my life)
on hold
in storage
until the spring.

The stretch to the switch is near enough to end me
and stung skin and slip risks when I surely shake
but it’s better than wasting away and wasting the day
and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.