On last of all rivers, Snow

Fox paws the black

ice crust, spidery thin

webs creaking silver-wet out

from paw pads. 
Her ear pressed on cold

ice she auricular measures

thickness, fearing the dark

dense undertow rumble,

the digestive slush of the planet.
Remnants of heavy-boned beast behind

her knuckle the frigid bank.

Curlew, uncompassed, breaks

his beak on nuked-shut mud.

Dingo claw-flints on buckled steel,

gnaws on fallen light-

                             wires. 
Snow Fox is the last, one-eyed

rare colonist, alone crossing over

into the last adaptive zone.
Her fur phosphor smoulders.
She sniffs   limps 
on mistings of species 
in ice.