IceCube

We have given our world
A new kind of eye
More like an ear,
Some seventh sense
That feels, palpably, the
Far edges
With the still, empty under-ice.

It makes me wonder
How many parts of the human body
We haven’t named,
How many parts of me
Are basic, are ancient, and
How many forever doomed to
Seven syllables,
Tertiary rings
Held loose together.