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Pray for the Lake

There was a Truth

in murk-settled water.

I'll sit at the surface

and remember past wrongs.

 

Stirred lake was below us,

the eels and a catfish,

but towered above

the sun shone down warm.

 

A dead masquerade,

you kicked for the surface.

Your body, it rippled

a silhouetted sky.

 

Dead hum underwater

our eyelids were liquid.

My jellyfish back

absorbed the tanned rays.

 

Ingest your diffraction,

a hunger astray.

A dry-land discov'ry:

it was my legs aflame.

 

The murk was in you.

The murk was in you.

Dear God, I was clean.

Dear God, I was clean.

 

A seat at the table

to pray for the lake.

But what does it matter?

Wash my hands to eat.

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Written by
joseph-valle
American
Published
Dec 20, 2012
Lines·Words
28·117
Permission

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