Water Lilies, Lurching on the Canoe

the dark green deep
swallows runoff
carrying chips of flint
that cut through petals, fallen leaves
floating over levees, solemnly
crawling slate, the moss up the neck
of the waterlogged housing project

opalite and retina of lamb,
this orange sunset
begs me to scoop up the brine
with muddied white hands

the water mirror ripples,
gator hatchlings glide in the pool
biting at ankles, green scale triangles
below their eyes, glazed
water lilies etched on the tiles,
sunken

the heat, a thick cocoon
cacophony of running water,
humming insects,
the suction on the street sign oar

excavating opaque glass
from the peat
to be thrown back
laughing into the back of throats,
guttural guardrails, sloshed beasts
pinned and parleying in soggy mud

mired ascension
of fingers up verdant beads,
a pyre of sodden wood
above coiled water moccasins,
cold and rubber panting
bottled green

scarring no further would be ideal,
scaling the watershed with the walking stick
worn against the current

the dog hair coated throat

toasting the algae capped lake,
as tablets, as sayings among sweating nurses
could neither cure nor console
those fallen for the water,
dipping hands deep beneath weathered stone

half knowing my submerged skull
would crack into quartz,
my beard would turn to moss
as folks lightly sigh upon recognizing
the navy bill of my hat, overwashed and frayed,
as I guided water to the drain

fluttering back, insides of sog and scarlet,
the great organ wavering in the pews,
paltry tithes, sucking at the side
of the woodgrain flask

I run the carved ‘m’ of my hand over the
myrtle wool, shivering beside a sapling,
tadpoles skirting from my shadow,
the translucent blank
kissed, tipping, flooding lungs
in submission beneath white warped ceiling,
the caving beam collecting droplets,
the soaked plaster, tracing floral tiles,