April Sunlight On Lake Water Poem by Mark Heathcote

Dancing on their embarkations,
triangular-arrowheads enter the water
dispersing a blinding light, shimmering-
like a thousand fish mouths opening,
biting—then just as suddenly closing.

'Each wave mirroring the next as if-
an oily mercury serpent was passing.
With all its diamante alloy-scales flashing
against some current that held it fast,
fast-enough that I, might, repeatedly gasp.'

'Such things as these often go unseen,
as if it were a figment of a dream
the serpent becomes a rainbow,
the rainbow becomes a serpent.
And no one recalls the dream.'
The beauty depth of all we've just, seen.

There is an open jarred cavity in us all.
An eternal eye that sees entirely-everything,
it doesn't matter if for a second you blink-
its lens has already been light-exposed
the film in the darkroom fully developed.