Summer dark, lakewater, stars
unravel in fallen
moths and fireworks,
what may’ve happened
in the scattered leaves, gunshot residue
and what did
to make such nebular grief
run the sky raw with light
when words fled
from shining lake to
formless space and became
bright, broken things—
a pinned butterfly’s wing,
chipped meteors,
a sunflower petal,
taken from
the cold deep lake
I swam in girlhood,
where I sang to
some time, some place,
now unreachable afterglow,
pondweed, its empty sky and quiet
follow me even here
to these hot lunar hills;
desert in my breath
needs no language
but sharp red ache
where water sang once
the quiet passed on,
formless as
lakewater I carry
our prayers
in a string of yellow petals:
little half-moons settle
on the lake’s surface.
beneath a gone
sea, its lush red coral,
bright and sharp.