Lake Of The Woods

What was the time in Ottawa
When that boy ran full pelt
Towards a delapidated pier upon

An icy lake to make his shape
Where conifers colluded
And memory occluded

This day, it once occurred.
Plenty (or was it a few) anglers
In lumberjack furs

Dangling their lines
In holes through snow
As they blow in their hands

And distances blur
Between water and skies
For hope of a bite

Oblivious to that parabolic
Arc of his last jump, his leap,
Neap tide, a void of pride,

The police had never been so far
From the scene of his crime,
But you can’t pursue spirit

With a Horseman in Time.
Something, always, is lost
Between the old and the new,

Between a thought in sheets
And all written words, Love.
One day I’ll remember this,

Sipping my oxtail soup,
Inconvenience, true,
Tired, yes, and mute.

6 thoughts on “Lake Of The Woods

  1. Wow, Nick! I’ve spent a lot of time with this one, just letting it all soak in. I feel like I need to look at my previous comments about your poetry so I am not repeating myself, but again I find myself equally drawn in and compelled by both the layers of meaning in your poetic storytelling and in the craft itself. The word choices and the sound devices employed, the roundabout way you so clearly deliver powerful messages…

    I love the way you presented this in a way that allowed us to be in two places at once, to witness yet be helpless, in a way in which no one could hear that final harsh, distant splash, showing how life continued on with people oblivious to the event that makes it seem nonexistent, but what a true tragedy it was, one life representing so many, so much…
    “But you can’t pursue spirit/With a Horseman in Time” is such powerful imagery I’ll never forget.

    Trying to put words together to describe the effect your words have on me leaves me frozen with a writer’s block I am not used to. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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