Fog  On  Lake  Superior

Horizon
no more than a
clothes line with pins set
askew. Easily, I duck under and step
barefoot over basalt and knuckle stones
into sky shedding lake or lake shedding sky.
Nothing separates here from there and there goes
Jewishness—a dental appointment—parentage—a deadline;
accoutrements; earrings—shoes—a shawl—detach themselves.
All my loves—and lovers—disperse like perfume and so do
lies—facts—memory—a comet of star debris;
beliefs—opinions—even proofs disappear.
My pale skin—scars—my blue eyes
brown hair—hard bones liquefy.
Nothing that's me is left.
Nobody's left that's
not me and all
and all and
all is
 
merged
 
in
 
spaciousness