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When you first detach your legs from your waist
And plant them feet first
From the dock ladder into Torch Lake
There is a baptism scream back to those on shore

They know

As the cold cuts you in half

The June sun shall take her time
Reunifying toes to heart and body to mind
Mixing warm blood to schools of deep green minnows

A honeybee looks up from the oars of my elbows
Flattened on its back wet to Purgatory

I cup the froth in my hands
Pour the living being to the dock
Like a bead found from a broken necklace

That bee must be conceiving of God
I spare it our bond to randomness

Let the creature define divinity

Someone said to me
They were sure I’d want my ashes
To be spread here

But I said no
If you must know
I’d like the weight of me
To be buried in the solid ground back home
From where I truly lived

And as for this place?

Let it be the gift it was
And later
A Navajo gift for other strangers

But perhaps she will still remember me
At our passing moment
Cupping her hands

My mistress
Who visited with me from time to time

When all was fleeting and perfect.

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