there’s a shade of blue
that pulls in with the clouds
over the glacier
where the ice pushes back against Apollo
begs the navy, canary meshing open
to give it coverage
from the rushing of the melt

it prefers the greys which protect its cover
its vulnerability lies
in picture perfect
human preference
for a gaze
which glorifies our version of beauty

but for that glacier
to be still
to know firm ground
requires a scale of cloud which cushions
its experiences of Mother Nature
how its sheath of ice cascades
and saves its cracking for the ultimate moments of unbecoming
it unravels when it’s forced

how sharp the sound of departure from self
booming down the gullies
through ranges
full of other beasts
whose ears perk to hear
the universal sound of
letting go

Elizabeth Ellson (she/her) is a midwesterner who has transplanted firmly into the east side of Los Angeles. She is the host of I Offer Poetry, a podcast that aims to share poetry the way we share music: fluidly and accessibly. She was recently published in Blue River Review and is a sucker for 80’s love songs | @ellsonelizabeth |