Lake Singing

Unlocked,
Leviathan lies underneath,
huffing into the lip of a glittering bottle,
with resounding bass.
Skated in silver shavings
the descant slivered up
between whittled cricks of marrow.

Crackled,
lucid Bluegills disturbed,
their mud caftans joggle up.
Naked and gliding again
under slick sheets.
Taut,
beyond the bald look-out,
frozen sand in bas relief,
blonded with grass.

Over the ricks of rocks
rusted with iron,
to the covered pontoons
moored at the marina.
The pink-eyed moon
warmed the ice overnight.
Her hands chafed together,
chanting,
ladling libations to the cockcrow;
a sun too arrogant for January,
and too cool for July
must have cajoled
such joyless singing.