Horseshoe Lake by Kathleen Klassen

                           Matt Anderson CC



Horseshoe Lake

Body glides.
               Fingers 
skitter, plunge, paddle
skitter, plunge, paddle, breathe
skitter, plunge, paddle, skitter, plunge, paddle
                                                                                           breathe 
until ripples still.

Head rests.  
Pillow of loon-
calls, wolf-cries
a whippoorwill’s 
hollow plea. 
Voices 

mizzle as mist 
onto glass
mattress, fuchsia 
sunsets, suspended 
reflections of green 
maple, transforming

blues.  Fused
into a glaze  
of cloud and tree 
liquid skin 
yields

a fishtail    
               memory: 
skitter, plunge, swish
skitter, plunge, swish, breathe
skitter, plunge, swish, skitter, plunge, swish
                                                                           returning

on fins’
yearning
I breathe.

​

​Kathleen Klassen is an emerging writer who discovered poetry as a source of healing after injury.  She has been published on Bywords.ca, Anti-Heroin Chic, Dissident Voice, passagerbooks.com, with In/Words Magazine and Press and looks forward to upcoming publications with Alternative Field, Dots Publishing and ottawater.