Why We Needed Iceland
Rebecca Macijeski
When we got married my gift to you
was crossing an ocean and climbing a glacier.
We traveled the country all day by bus
to put spikes on our feet
and cramp them down in the ice with each step
as if to say look how strong and bold we are.
Look how we shatter what used to form on our hearts.
Look how the volcano with its hot ash turned cool
settles in the distance beyond us,
watching as we lean into a stream
and drink the fresh melt of the world.
And the ash gathered behind us in dark pyramids
marking where we’d been. One wrong step
and we would have fallen down the ice’s thin slice
toward the earth’s rumble, our bodies
slipping back to geologic time.
Even today your I love you comes like this—both
a surprise and a glacial promise—like this whole time
we’ve been riding the world toward each other,
and have only now begun to arrive.