--- title: Glacier Bay date: 2026-09-01 tag: lyrical words: 200 status: done #—optional— vo: /assets/vo_Glacier Bay.mp3 collection: dreams --- # Glacier Bay ### *Cleave! Slip! Shatter! Sink!* Garrett Kincaid | Sep 01, 2026 *** *Cleave, slip, shatter, sink*—I need to see it. Treading tepid water, freezing, insisting that it happen while I'm watching—I await the magician's prestige. "I missed it! Do the trick again," I plead. With no signal of another show coming, I contort my mind trying to will the titan to dance for mortal me. "A River of Ice" the marquee reads. . . . *Cleave! Slip! Shatter! Sink!* I'm shocked to hear an entire boat of people behind me. "Swim in!" they yell in unison. I glare the other way: *Melt for me already*. After one last insistent look at the stage's static curtain, I turn in. Inhale, reach, pull; reach, pull; all the while, kicking. Alternately, seawater seeps into each of my aural orifices, muting the entire theater. Then I breach for a breath and see the audience awe-jawed, frozen, boatmen gawking. I twist-turn to match their gazes, seawater flings from my ears, and I hear the final measures of their gasps and groans, my mother's among them; no one—not even she—is any longer worried for my safety. And all I see is a colossal wave rolling at me. {% subscribe header="", subheader='Subscribe to The Intronaut for more micro-doses of dream-inspired prose-poetry.' %}