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.
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