Exhibit A: Eldey Island, Iceland, 1844

Squint, reader, through the sudden fog: 
                            the sea’s gnaw and lick-bright:
Eldey, pillar of stone: where two
                            great auks survive, briefly—
before reenacting the end of their story

                            especially for us. See them flee
the stalking sailor Sigurðr. I, tourist, 
                            slip inside his body,
drenched numb by the ice-stout flumes. 
                            Cash-sack-fat birds, necks

like liquid: Yes—I want to. 
                            But the auks’ panicked eyes;
tuft of lavender down plucked 
                            loose. It walked like a man,
Sigurðr will tell later. He made no cry.

                            I soak through. I watch
the auks run. He/it and she/it 
                            toddle toward the breakers,
the careful steps of children 
                            new to all the earth:

Sigurðr’s daughter 
                            shushing dolls in the haylight.
Or child-me hiding my witch-heart 
                            in a bathroom stall. 
By the neck and he flapped his wings.

Sigurðr lifts it in his fist. I lift
him in my fist. We lift her

in our fist. You must believe me—
                            I tried to protect her
when I did not hate her for her failure 
                            to be strong. 

The auk sighs. The seas pause.
Sigurðr’s daughter falls into a deep sleep.