Three
Versions of Water Psychosis
I.
On shore of the Pacific at Montana de Oro
Our moon competes with clouds to be seen
I have found the edge of my personality
Waves thrash on rocks black with fervor
Each, a god—deploying into sky as shards
Where moon’s eyes wince drenched
Salt-stung to heave back bashing
Blows that crash in ears as I collapse in
Silence finally from its ardent roars.
II.
On frozen Lake Mendota with a view to the stones
Aghast at sounds that rumble in its depths
Nothing I have ever known, no one ever told
That lakes moan when strong sheets of ice crack
And I have not begun to love as love howls too
Lying flat above the lake’s booms, echoing
Fear to bowels, lasers in war, shaking the
Soul of the lake.
Cries of casualty and end, for
No one comes to the buried stones’ wake.
III.
Rains of summertime unpeel my clothes, I am
A voyeur of skin felt up by warm sky, the two
Squirm over me until they come. Upstairs,
Zombie lowers body into the bath. Porpoise
Tight skin bares the rhythm of heart
Candle shimmers prisms of color across
Tears in its flame.
Lowering myself to
Allow the silent caves of ears, let the flood
Waters sweep me beyond home into sea.
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