New Year, Frozen Lake


This late, the mountains loom and disappear.

Stars are hard to see, involved with snow. Under


the hard surface of the lake: fish, fast as matches,

faces flared-open and dumb. I don’t understand


my need to be alone. I came outside for something.

Here, the middle of the lake, night, cold, unknowable,


is nothing. Loneliness is nothing. This,

this is the world. I want another lover. But not


my body’s awful work against its edges. Not

mouths, breathing over planes of face. I want


the body’s early, needless coming near,

like these fish, in the dark, to the brightest surface.

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