Night Canoe on Lake Sandoval

To float on the surface of Lake Sandoval at night
under constellations I do not recognise –
their reflections beneath and all around me –

is this what being dead is like? No bank,
no moonlit waterlilies opening their petals
like fragrant new planets.

The giant river otters sleep in their den.
If morning comes, I’ll be a river wolf like them,
dive to the bottom of the lake

in the far crescent where people aren’t allowed.
I will move in my element like an astronaut,
feed ...

 

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