The Lake With No Name

It’s the Lake With No Name

A sky: a paper mirror

Here, is where Grandma

Used to take me,

The two of us.

Always.

Long roots that are branches

Bristly leaves that are bushes

A bird, or two. Some might

Say that the clouds are always

Stuffed to the rim

Like her soul. She said

She was happy when she came

Here. Because she could see

How happy life was.

We would smell the aroma

Of happy nothingness

And tree dew, feathers.

The teal and bubblegum

Showers of night

Sprinkles of day.

And now I stand here alone

Gazing out

At the Lake With No Name