Atlin Lake
All night, the black lake
frets against basalt
Fails to rid itself
of last year’s drowned
In a cabin (only tethered
to dark by frailest chance)
again and again
an old man
is dislodged
from someone else’s sleep
Glacial Lake Whitehorse
At last, reprieved
by melting ice
an ancient lake fled
down our valley to the sea
and never returned.
Without fish, sterile,
all its water ever knew
was wind.
Tonight, a dry wind
cries out for waves again.
Atlin Lake From Wood Spoken: New and Selected Poems (Northbound Press, Harbour Publishing)
Glacial Lake Whitehorse from The Exile House (Salmon Publishing, Ireland)
