Icebergs in April
by A. A. Parr
for Baxter Bramatti

The lakes are great
where we come from - 
shallow then sudden,
a connection made where
none existed before,
where waters simply
rose and fell in wave
after wave after
the look you gave,
your head in your hand, 
your mock chagrin as 
with webbed feet
you didn't swim,
at the drop off where
things happen
a mile out from
the shore, from
where pebbles collected
where words
collected where
things could be said
safely without fear
of sudden winds
that might lift and blow
and send your words
aloft 
where others might (never)
be able to read them
as th...

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