Poem—Ice Water
I grew up in Michigan, and wrote this poem remembering the cold winters and walking on Lake Michigan icebergs.
Ice Water
Walking on Lake Michigan icebergs
water flowing through fissures beneath our feet
Tenuous footfalls on ice that heaves,
cracks, then holds as your arms flail
My grandmother clucking from the shoreline,
bundled into woolen hat and coat,
her gloved hands fluttering
as my brother and I step onto
the ice, tempting God, or fate
or the universe
falling through, boots filling
with the shock of ice water
snowsuit ballooning, sucking
us down, arms reaching to pull us free
And my grandmother pacing, weaving
consternation on shore, a frustrated hen
Like that first step into another’s space
entering hopeful, knowing the well
will be deep
and perhaps a little murky