Robert Trezise Jr. Poet Free verse

Savior of Torch Lake

Arms and legs peddling struggling
I tread
In the middle of the lake

There is 300 feet of blue water
Between the soles of my feet
And the 10,000 year old dance floor beneath.

Torch Lake never gives up her dead.

The lake’s bottom is pocked
With springs bursting as jets from Middle Earth
Jumbling boulders like popcorn.

This is where the drowned bodies sink
Irretrievable by dive teams or priests

Those Ojibwa fishermen ripped from their Birch canoes
	Loggers clunked dead on their heads
		Great Depression titans
Still stitched to their britches
	Top hats and bow ties
		Pistols clutched to their hands

Wives sunk from hurt and betrayal
	Factory workers snapped in two
		A young girl from a rowboat
Caught in a sudden storm
	Clapping for her tossed dog
		She dove in.

I wonder from down there
Where they’re all doing the jig
What I look like to them
Up here?

Another man walking on his knees?

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Charlie Smith April 7, 2017 at 9:20 AM Very well done Robert, wonder what we all look like?

Robert Trezise Jr. March 11, 2017 at 7:39 AM Thank you Phil. You are most kind my friend. Bob

Phil Capitano March 11, 2017 at 7:32 AM Purposely punny, Robert, this is deep. Well done.