The Lake: A Sestina
Amid evergreen song, Mother Earth’s voice blares enough to conceal that of the boy—events that had long defined his hide from his obscurities. Was it the painted nails on masculine digits, the slight strut in his stride, or the two personalities he wore that made faces turn to an uneven arc? The same ones that upturn upon that bible verse: leviticus, sinful, a single color. Of course, the lake he stares into is stripped of its hues. Its once glinting color now stands dull with the rest of the onlookers: black and white, not enough. And though the refracted image of the boy, in hindsight, is him, neither the arc around his belt, nor his murky skin could hide his real image. An image that strings together two narratives into
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