Patagonia

by Mary Brunini McArdle

I go there in my dreams.
I no longer have the stamina
For high adventure or exotic travel,
But I desire to see
The bottom of the world.

Torres del Paine extends its
Prominences up so high
The pointed peaks are indiscernible,
Obscured by clouds of amethyst.

And cold Moreno creeps so gently;
Do you think if I went barefoot
I would feel its icy fingers
On my toes?

How is it possible?
Two nations’ counter claims
On something that belongs to God.