EPISTEMOLOGY OF THE ICEBERG
An iceberg used to mean
like an iceberg
was to have
the surface. To go
on. Now, an iceberg means
impermanence. To melt into
something. To disappear into your
body. To run into an old friend
at the market and be told
you’ve changed. Now, an iceberg
is something you can argue.
Like politics or history. Like
memory. How old were you
when you saw the iceberg?
Your mother says eleven.
You say fourteen. You stood
on the shore in PEI, your hands
and breath both frozen. A mass of ice
bigger than your house, your school.
If only ten percent of an iceberg
floats above the surface, what does
that mean for the other ninety? Back then,
an iceberg meant mystery— a second truth
below the water. Now, both truths
Gabrielle Drolet is a poet and journalist based in London, ON. Her work, which focuses on politics and queer identity, has been published in The Toronto Star, The Globe and Mail, Teen Vogue, VICE, and more. She's currently completing her undergraduate degree in English and Creative Writing at Western University.
Watch Your Head is an online anthology of creative works devoted to the climate crisis and climate justice.
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