i dare not speak on
lake skaneateles
the silence
is for me
and the clean water
and
the birds chirping
are for me
i don’t want to
think about
the muscle men
of wichita
or the land lords
or the
hit-men
but i do make noise
and i do think of them
and i vomit and
vomit bile
the entire time
all over the
eagle’s nest
muddying the
blue water
all over ed and marie’s
pretty little cabin
as i become the soul of skinny atlas himself
straightening my spine
and readying
to shoulder this
globe forevermore