Kathleen Nalley
I’d be forged by ice
segregation, a-
brasion, glacial e-
rosion. Sill or shoal
at the mouth. Reef or
skerry. I’d be a
menace to navi-
gation, a gener-
ous fishing ground, a
glacially long val-
ley with terminal
moraine. Trapped between
mountain, I’d rush as
tidal current or
saltwater rapid,
and finally be
that long, narrow arm
of the sea, wonder-
ously beautiful,
remarkably deep.