Lakeside, I am honey-drizzled,
in an inky trance, like tea
left too long in the sun. My arm
is a mossy log, lined with turtles.

My hair is silvery water;
my toes are pebbles. My hip is
a reedy island where
a Canada goose nests in stillness.

I’m steeped in fallen leaves.
Frogs are buried below my muddy knees.
Bubbles rise from my murky depths.
Ducks churn with webbed feet.

Heron touch down in twos,
leaving vee-shaped wakes.
My green heart skip-trips
like a tossed stone until

a snake slithers through the reeds.
Ka-BLAM, I snap back to human,
smelling fear, a long-dead boogie-man,
a water moccasin, thicker than a sapling.

I am Alice, awake, remembering
magic, feeling the mudcrust
between my toes but no longer in
danger of losing my head.

Copyright 2017 Brenda Davis Harsham

Notes: Being sick for over a week now, it’s a bit like losing yourself. I hope to come back to myself soon.

46 thoughts on “Lakeside

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