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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