Stargazing At The Lake
By Erika Gill
Best of Birdy Issue 048, December 2017
The lake at night is glossy and flat black
an obsidian mirror reflecting watercolor fingers
spears of light of the storefronts and homes and streetlights
the water beneath impenetrable and hard
empty without light
my heart craves the sight of this expanse
winter trees stretch skeleton fingers up upward
yearning, as I begin, fearfully, to contemplate yearning
tightly closed petals slowly unfurl
mortally afraid of the frost, your indifference
but I sink slowly and warm into the depths of light-shot amber chips
your eyes absorb it all and I sink in with a sigh
oh oh oh
I sigh
warmth, light, a new star to orbit
I do my cosmic mating dance in an ellipse
uncertain if I should be near or far
wobbling unsteady, ever closer to your surface
I heard between your words the fear of being a satellite
I can’t alter your gravity
but I can pull the shorelines into a script
that begs “love me love me love me”
and grip hard to draw the deep waters and gather them to me like skirts
blanketed, robed in darkness to cover my violent glow
crowned in a fading light I hope you see
or put out, but soon.
Erika Gill is a Denver-based writer and poet originally from Southern California. She is the founder and editor of Alternative Milk Magazine. Check out more of her work on her site and on Instagram.