Devil’s Lake

No mysteries and Lord the moon’s

right where

You last night left it

minus two, three degrees, today’s heat

kicked my shins while the neighbor

-hood kids

chased puppywild +

unschoolable through sprinklers,

dripping wet they took to the side

-walk in front

of my house + never

glanced at the empty seat I’d set myself in,

Lord these late stages would be easier

to suffer prune

and Metamucilly through

had the thunder struck when I was still

capable of lightning, tho electricity

maps our

bones, and if You’ll

never offer resolution on whether light

is particle or wave, from this canvas

seat know

I too Lord can be

duplicitous, can remember down

through tendons + the halflife of hemo-

globin: I re-

member both the minute

first spent kissing E’s soft cheek and

telling myself remember this, this kiss, skin

on lips. As if

I’d ever forget either. Could.

Lord were I still streaky + soaked I too

would ignore empty men on empty

porch chairs

but Lord I’m not, and

Lord tonight I know the moon will be

right where You last night left it minus

another few

degrees: they’re dim

arithmetic morsels You allow yet how

filling Lord, how fulfilling the just-

enough bit

none of us (in Your

light, image, both) ever chew fully through.