in which
by the shallows over there

far as they know

It looks like the lake on a partly cloudy afternoon. White below blue, then a boat pulling a kid. Then, once the waves pass, gray. Then, you guess, some dusty green murk.

And the lake’s coming at me. But don’t worry. I’m safe inside.

You make a mistake to write from anywhere but … sure, the love may show up as anger or confusion or fear or determination … but love’s informing or mistaken … from the basement and below it.

Or in their beauty they turn away like cattle knowing or not knowing market day comes soon. Or heron-legs tap the lake surface and there’s a little fish. So they fly.

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