Late In The Summer

The damsel flies 

take largest bites 

late in the summer

when I think everything has passed.

Far away the lake is still and smooth 

and I trip in my thoughts 

confusing the depth with the high.

A ripple brushes my thigh

and I get such a hunger

I go in and I am in

The lake licks itself around me

I will wear the lake

my sides are turning silver 

let that be my costume

my mouth latches onto life

it tastes like tree bark

hard, wrinkled, dusty,

corky, certainly hardy

and I want more

Every mouth is without words

without understanding

dumbfound

  void

I kiss thee, you’re alive

This is the summer

the only summer

at the beginning

at the end

A few things we know

how to suffer

how to utter 

I don’t want to go 

give me more

This is my dream

my life

my world

I flow.