The Cedarville Review 2018

14 THE CEDARVILLE REVIEW Poetry by Rebekah Erway ANTARCTICA Pen in hand, Page before me– A bleak, miles-long landscape Of inch-high, foot-high, yard-high knolls of snow That undulate with wind And wind And more, and more, and more Pawing, sawing fingered screams, clawing voiceless sounds Wearing, tearing out the muse my parka pen surrounds Scraping, gaping at the ever-ice-encrusted ground, Wind. Such wind. Purple bruises blue that bruises white then blue again Across the constant imperfections of the world’s elliptic edge. Emptiness is never empty: