Christina Olson is the author, most recently, of the poetry collection Terminal Human Velocity (Stillhouse Press) and Before I Came Home Naked (Ankylosaurus Press). She teaches creative writing at Georgia Southern University. Two of Olson’s poems are featured in ZYZZYVA No. 111. Presented here in its entirety is the poem “Pack Time”:
In late May, the men succumbed to winter madness, shaving their heads and posing amid great hilarity while Hurley immortalized the moment with a photograph.
—from Endurance: Shackleton’s Legendary Antarctic Expedition
Who can blame them—their ship sunk
in pack ice. The dark days looping
like a tape reel. The sled dogs snoozing
away in their dogloos. White noise.
Lentils and seal meat. In the Southern
hemisphere, summer is winter. One
morning, Hurley photographs ice
flowers and captions them as pink
carnations. The difference between
metaphor and madness is just five
letters. And a month is a false way
to mark time, a way to claim it
like a parcel of land. Nature the only
marker: pop of crocus, peel of sunburn.
On land, we flip a calendar page
like a badge, like a finger: we’ve survived
another thirty days. When the sun
never rises, men must make their own
calendars. They shave each other’s heads,
grinning with razors. They run hands
over each other’s pates, gleaming
in the lamplight. Their scalp skins
so white, like the ice. Like skulls.