grace&desolation2=at the lake

(Excerpted from Grace & Desolation. Poems from this book have previously appeared in EastSide Week, Island of Rivers, and Painted Bride.)

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At the Lake without L

Lines climb toward sunken weeds

where earth continues, bone beneath

a liquid eye. Somewhere fish

are not seeing our bait, as we

cannot watch morning grow old;

but we paddle imaginary latitudes

hoping for one needlethin trout.

Two boats, resting like spoons on jelly,

three men too far for eye to eye, no

language stitches the still air among

us. But that is understood as, briefly,

we stare across opaque water larger

than any floor and (it is easy) look away.

Two herons share the water’s near

end, patrolling, living. Ashore,

friends move within their lakes of sleep,

unaware of navigation, of our intent;

though we, in our own sleeps, are not far.

The herons too are undisturbed

in their world of water above and below.

What we are to them, motions,

I am to you.

Current, the wind: the dream dresses

itself in language. We know we exist,

we know why, but only here—

a huge cell’s nucleus, perhaps;

we reel in and cast, know only

everything we know.

With their purposes, boats

ignore each other; the pas de deux

abstractedly goes on.

Author's Bio
Sean Bentley was born in Seattle. He is an editor of Fine Madness (the poetry magazine) and in his spare time works at Microsoft Corporation. His writing has appeared widely over the last twenty years. His two previous books are Into the Bright Oasis (1976) and Instances (1979).

Publisher's note: a few copies of Instances are still in print and are selling for $9.95 plus shipping & handling. Send email to poetry@cunepress.com.

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