TURLOUGH
David Nash
Water with its moon in Libra:
now you see it,
sudden water, where yesterday
you’d happened
on a desire path
home, which would have halved
the time it takes. Now with water,
doubled. Doubled water –
the lake you see before you now is
the lake you don’t
inverted, the water table
with its legs in the air,
an underground overed,
a frown upside-downed.
You roll up your jeans
to ford or afford it, and exactly at waist
height you are one of two things:
an anchor tethering sky
or the lake’s space programme.
This water one day
will leave land in its wake.
You will stand in
a grass meniscus
while the water, untroubled,
summers in closure.
Now you don’t.