I don’t want to write this manuscript
I want to be a deep
Sea coral at the bottom of
A Norwegian fjord.
The great expanse of ice spirals
A rhythm to my swaying
Protected by the pressure
Of a bear hug water column.

Nobody will find me there except
Zooxanthellae who poured
Out from inlets around Greenland
Just to seek my warmth and
Feel the walls of my branchlets
Which they navigate like dirt
Roads in the Midwest, like oranges
And taste buds.