Iota (Poetry)

I accidentally spawned you in a foreign lake —
somewhere dark and distant
and, my first impression was,
the place seemed barren,

devoid of all things that might find themselves
living in cold emptiness,
but you grew anyway,
despite the lack of light

and love — so, who fed you,
what sustained you in that blue-black waterworld
of murmurings and almost silence?
I never taught you how to breathe

or think or feel. You are a random thought
fleshed into words — a wild notion
breaking free of blood and foam,
gasping like a fish.

It seems you own me. Nagged by barbs
beneath my skin, I recognise that subtle ache
and find it strangely comforting
that you chose me.