THE LAKE

I don’t know anything about God
but I’ve seen the lake
It sips color from the sun
and slowly drinks it down

Spit it a bitter wad of gum,
throw it empty bottles
and listen to the sound of its lips
suck against the shore

It takes my words
and swallows them whole
I show it the puzzle of my life
and a fin rolls over smooth

I cast it old questions and the answers
dissolve into ciphers dissolving
Its surface widens and I have a vision
of geese as a single feather spinning

When at last it speaks,
its voice thick with insects,
I listen but only find
trash at the edges of its mouth

Some shamen say we will one day
join the spirit of the lake
I don’t know anything about spirits
but I’ve touched the lake