wind on water on ice apparitional
the lake floating on itself giving
air a body that races mirror-backs
half serpent half silk scarving
pulled from this winter’s inverted hat
everything dull but the tree-howl
gray branches clacking near black
against brackish cloud-cover the nubs
of leaves swollen like purple hives
or pustules nearing break the way
a country can be so unfamiliar
to itself its bones retained like some
relic moving to museum floor
to be showcased with informative
signs and all the best lighting
its innards spirited away in the cycle
of wet things rain-logged to rot
and mold driven down to earth
becoming earth below the surface
of the earth lake and root sharing
a bottom unfathomed unechoed
Crab Orchard Review, Volume 22, Number 1, 2018