The Glacier Attends its Own Funeral as a

The Glacier Attends its Own Funeral as a Ghost

Poet: Suzannah Evans

Ki [from the Potowatomi word Aakibmaadiziiwin] to signify a being of the living earth. Not he or she, but ki. So that when the robin warbles on a summer morning, we can say, “Ki is singing up the sun.”

Robin Wall Kimmerer, ‘Speaking of Nature’. 


Ki surges around the ankles 

of the mourners       cannot unpeel Ki-self

so easily from the land 


from the air

it would look like dry ice curdling

on a nightclub floor 


Ki like we all might 

sometimes regrets its slowness


would say as much to the beanie hats

that brush their hiking boots in its bed

read the plaque stuck to the stone


wish for something 

as they look back the way they’ve come


Ki has joined a Valhalla of sorts

pale bristlecone trunks that stand 

lightningstruck and falling open in canyons 


ancient sharks pulled like breezeblocks

before their time from the concrete sea


Ki’s brother mountain Ök   the cold 

shoulder of rock where Ki leaned 

persists craggily      they shared

many mornings 

of mint-streaked dawn aurora      


seven hundred years of one surface

pressured by another 

Mugshot. Suzannah Evans.png

Suzannah Evans lives in Sheffield. Her pamphlet Confusion Species was a winner in the 2012 Poetry Business Book and Pamphlet Competition and her debut collection Near Future was published by Nine Arches Press in 2018. She was the winner of a Gladstone’s Library residency in October 2019 for Near Future, and her poem ‘Helpline’ was Poem of the Week in The Guardian.