Broken from a greater glacier,
frozen and salt-branded, I float.
Through ocean and misty vapors,
avoided by sporadic boat,
I long neither for warm ice floes
nor frigid waters surrounding,
for neither belt nor bight nor coast,
crackling crack nor silence sounding.
I pray for tropic waters’ maw
swallowed in their thinning thaw.
Was I more when I began?
Why now am I nothing more than
a massive mass of minute worth
wishing for a melted birth?