Elegy for a lake, a house

Elegy for a lake, a house. The heaviness, the weight is back and it is seconds adding up to something lining up ahead like footsteps lining a path leading to water A car rusts in the shallows bleeding into water, shedding iron particles, making mud. It drinks constantly, pulls mold within its seats and fingers that are not fingers unstitch the leather. Tadpoles shimmer like heat pouring from the bucket seats. Rain starts up. It is not relief. It tears at trees stumps, makes feet run up and down the one gutter of the broken house. I want to sit under the spewing rain spout. I shall close my eyes and drink the water black with a summer’s worth of dirt, drink the pine needles, fill my stomach up, drink, drink. To feel the body melt away will be what keeps me there.