I have a piece of Iceland.
It sits upon my desk.
Sand and chinks of shells,
The Iceland sun once blessed.
I have a piece of Iceland’s shore
The pebbly land is land no more.
Now it bobs in corked glass seas
Forlornly as it watches me.
When I die, please bury me
Or else scatter what’s left of me;
By Iceland’s northern coast.
It’s only fair to give and take;
I stole their shore, for Heaven’s sake.