TURTLE ISLAND, LAKE GEORGE
Lauren McCollum
Wooded island on the lake,
bathe me in your primal way;
sleep me on your solid ground,
and when I cry, change me
into that which I cry to be.
Whittle me, trees.
Carve me into a fitting coffin
as I sleep and wake.
And encroach on me, lake,
but don’t wash me away.
Purge my grizzled face,
yellow light of day.
Make me into an island, island.
I must be whole before returning
to those people, that place.