Lake Sylvia

The clouds draw down into the branches
Of the trees across the lake. The raindrops
Strike the cold, black water. I am underneath
A cedar, soaked, brought back into the womb.
I watch the drops as they make circles on the
Water's surface, merging, mimicking my
DNA. My daughter's said she'll have a
Child. Her words prove that I am through.
The useless genes, the little circles, merge
And multiply, and I, my body quaking
From the cold, can abdicate beneath
This tree. The grandpa ducks into his
Womb. The clouds obscure the baby's
Fate. The daughter turns to tend to it,
Hoping all will turn out well, once they
Have crossed the lake.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 81 times
Written on 2016-07-08 at 02:39

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