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 thickens with insects
and I hear 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.