Music Therapy: Glámur by Amiina

For Maggie May, who has been in my thoughts this week.

we are all just fingers and toes, my love
we are the little iceberg that calved
and fell
into the faded apple green
of a northern river

the leaves that I dropped
upon the stream
at the mouth of the culvert
are forever emerging
into the sun

it is this same sun
whose shifting reflection
I skim from the water
to spread on your toast
instead of butter

a catalogue of wafers
can build a library
wordless texts that ache to be read
poised to become the flood
that will make you feel warm again