Lakes Much Greater

There are lakes much greater

Lips more quiet

Hearts that could beat deeper

Into nights ever temperate


There is grass much greener

In places, unclear

You never know depth

Until you reach the bottom


Before the sun drained Underhill

You spoke sweet Sinatran words

When Baldwin was filled

She swayed to Presley verses


There are lakes much greater

Than the ones we know

There are gazes we wish lasted longer

Scars that never fade


There were brighter Eola mornings

Where popsicles dripped down our hands

Swan boats paddled and slapped across

A blanket of sun, you said


You fill all the empty spaces inside of me


At a time, Nona thrived

We saw the egg yolk sun

Spill between the tops of trees

The stars must have felt abandoned


When Pickett formed dirt beaches

And bared its skeleton

The air between us

Found its own company


How painful to see

Evidence of occupied space

There was something before nothing

We need not reminders


You could fill a lake with words

You could let allow it to spool against its rim

You could reach the bottom

And never feel the depth


You exist between the spaces of rain drops

You haunt me when the lakes go dry

I feel the space you filled inside me

I feel the space you left


I started writing piece this during the drought we had in the beginning of May, and it was possibly the saddest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.  Lakes Much Greater is a poem that takes all the lakes around me and compares them to love (wow). It honestly took me a long time to finish this one. I’ve gotten pissed at this poem so many times because I couldn’t the words out of me, and I’m just happy it’s finished and it’s at a point where it can tell a poignant story.

I broke the poem up into 4 lines per stanza, mostly because I feel as if each lake that I’ve visited all kind of look the same so I want the repetition in this piece to seem identical in that aspect. Seeing the dirt on the edges of lakes during that month really took a toll on me emotionally for some reason. I’ve never really experience lakes being drained of their water so drastically, and I thought I could put a deeper meaning into it.

Although this poem could be interpreted in a few ways, I feel as if I could summarize it in a few words: There will always be evidence of space that was once filled. You can either fill it with something else, or live with the space that is there now. In the least sexual way possible.


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