Fed Void

We walked around the frozen lake
and finally trusted it
walked out on it
waiting for the crack, rifle shot
of glass void we could almost see into
to take our bodies
We joked about its powers
to stop supporting a dream
The cuneiform of bird’s feet
you photographed, neck bent
They must have touched down
while it was still a lens
Q: What did they want?
A: Impossible nourishment
just like everything else.

Don’t the headlights bother them
how they turn through the fountain
that thawed part
where water still trickled
down three bronze women intertwined
in the middle of the lake
on a tiny island the divine family
there since the 1920s
some say are Graces
They melt things
I should have listened to our conversation
should have asked them to listen
more carefully
the warmth moving on
moving you on
(Graces melt things)

Can I blame them

these innocent, unfeeling sisters?

the cold prints of the past
you were capturing
The claws of practicality
write these stories
if birds may be said
to have stories (I think so)

These things posing as support
would melt by spring
The lake would be crowded
with hunger again
made green from within
the glorious mess
of new screaming
of too many bodies

The birds that live in water

would show off all spring and summer


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