Saturday, February 11, 2012

Reckoner (take two)

Sometimes the lake hides itself
slides its manhole cover over
and it’s over   Shunk

After the reclaiming and the dredgings
the new pilings and the shovelings
we bathe in its shades: gin clear, fluorescent grey


Sometimes we float, bumping along
in its screensaver blue shoulder to shoulder
in a simulacrum of friendship

Each heart-warm friend we reckon them up
in rosy dawn we hold and hold them
like a personal flotation device

Each name a bead in the bracelet
Each name a thanksgiving

Reckoner you know our faces
making light echoes below the ripples
like pockets of air beneath ice

like a Ghost Man on second
Seen and unseen
If we’re not in the lake

where are we?


Since we uploaded into the cloud
the earth misses us the ground
It hasn’t rained for months

All our campfire girls
All our drowned fuselages and kelped wrecks
All our pine pollen soft parades

Our mouthfuls and gulped breaths
How many gigabytes is that?


The hands of the slave girl
who assembled and delicately wiped
our touchscreens with a carcinogenic solution

her little hands are ruined so we can  
share with smudgeless clarity
So we can build community


On the lake a mother mallard
nestles into needles to make her
home above rocks

where a boy with a stick
is sure to find her.

Reckoner, take me with you.


In the face of the water at night
stars make replicas of themselves
to replace us

It is starting to rain. Ripples
separate along the blank shore
I want to stand here a little longer

Where is your warm hand
for my hand?

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