Taylor Graham

When your daughter began to color
a topographic map of the Kahiltna Glacier,
how could she know what everlasting ice
lay between the squiggly contour lines?

She chose a vibrant yellow, a shade
that smudges gray
from magic markers rubbed too long
over a xerox copy.

You were just waking
from the sweet-molasses dreams
of seven years of marriage, an instant
in a glacier’s view,

to look down on your daughter
coloring. From a raven’s perspective
of outstretched wings, see
how a glacier

assumes the form of fingers;
of interlocking arms, pursed lips
that seem, at first,
to be kissing –

as if a multitude of fevered
merged, began to separate,
and froze.