by Dianne Chisholm https://diannechisholm.space/
Floating ice shelves, ice islands, ice capes, towering ice
cliffs appear off port side. Looming large. Close.
White continent rises from black waters as we cruise
through peninsular portals. Antarctica’s here!
I’m alone on deck three. Hugging the railing against
bracing spray. Looking out from where outward looking is
most possible. We’re a small ship in an immense
landscape making our way slowly and getting smaller.
Inside, it’s warm and the music is playing. Guests lounge
over drinks and coffee-table books of sublime icescapes,
savoring their distraction. I find shelter in the port-side
doorway, between frames.