After a day of driving, arrival in the valley. Night's dark meadow is scattered with no gleam, though you know there are lights there, like teeth clinging stubborn to their buttress beneath the gums. What's trapped in the marble of the bones doesn't give itself up easily. It remembers every fracture, every instance when it nearly leaped out of your skin. The lake is calm as glass until receding rays stripe it coral. Carp bodies part clouds of silt and kelp, oily and verdigrised. You don't know what it is they keep returning to at the bottom, only that it pulls them away almost as soon as they touch the clear jade upper layers.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.