Devil’s Lake

Is not captivity but an awning

Faberge blue in the temperate sun

A secret mispronounced on high

Behind a red brick fence

Planked with algae

Two materials cordoning

The girls inside

Let them have jobs beyond veils and taps

Scalloped roofs

Fat-gabled steaks

Sirens at their pulse points

Time for ample leisure

Hours to stroll the grounds

Grinding the soot off the grills

Scouring the bottom of the pool

With diamonds they flagrantly lose

And television

Everyone gets a channel

The way on a clear day

You can watch the helicopters

Watching you

In LA