Friday Poem: "Techniques of Avalanche Survival"

I was a Boy Scout in suburban Maryland in the 80s. I had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the organization; I really did enjoy camping and being outdoors, but I resented the paramilitary "ranks" that seemed required for ongoing membership. I never progressed beyond "Second Class," which was the rank they gave you when you had been in it for a year. Still, I could let my freak flag fly a little bit— I was the only one in the troop (maybe in the state?) to receive merit badges for coin collecting and reptile care.

One memorable scout meeting involved learning the following procedure. Keep in mind that the highest mountain in Maryland is just over 3000 feet above sea level, so the chances of being caught in an avalanche are close to zero. Still, "Be prepared" is, as Tom Lehrer once sang, the Boy Scouts' marching song.

Techniques of Avalanche Survival

When the white thunder stops and you’re finally curled
in your womb of snow, wiggle your toes.

If there is no pain, flex your fingers, make a fist,
plow a breathing space. This smell—clean, empty—

must be the scent of the upper atmosphere,
dragged down miles, flake by flake.

Careful.  You don’t want to be a second triggering
tremor, setting off another slide; slowly pack your chrysalis.

Though your chamber may be infused with sky-blue light
you won’t be able to tell which way is earth.

Remain calm.  Find a small heavy object—a knife, a watch—
hold it out and let it drop.  Its fall will tell you

the direction of the ground.  Don’t be surprised if it hits
your chin; your mind has already blacked out those sickening

minutes, your body a loose marionette in the tumble.
When you have your bearings, mole in the opposite direction.

Try not to think about the surface,
smooth now as a low-tide beach at sunrise.

Don’t picture the search party spotting your glove
worming through the glittering crust.  Forget

how your presence there, and your entrance,
will be—as it always has been—utterly, unimaginably small.

This poem appeared in Willow Springs #55.