lake and plane

big Florida lake, warm a million years, 
feels the wind, the furrow of boats

complies with swimmers, birds and fish,
things floating off, the foregone 
thrash of alligator tails

tornadoes twist and the lake lies flat

lightning, sometimes hail but

the F-18 that sunk alarmed everything,
the pilot's clothing separated now,
billfold gone to a quick fish

the lake behaves with a restless cupidity 
her still blue sides turning a little 
to the touch of divers, the skip of hooks

i have gone to ground chasing poems down
and lay nearby when that flyboy died,
feeling him choke through darting schools,
the waxy wings of another son
come to harm, his arc undone




© Copyright 2001 Peter Chapman

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