Lower Under

by Ezra Dan Feldman

 

Incidences make the dreary novel.

In the muck, a pickup truck.
A step that isn’t.

Lake-light beads and drops.
Your camera rises and softens

like a moon from the lake bed
while you go lower for extra reminder

touch does not stop touching.
The surface ceilings into view

with water striders’ legs.
Water replacing the always air

somersaults cold over warm
silt and stone, becomes the ether

pulling away
at the rope you’ve carried,

at the gaping lens.
Your opposite angel swims for day.

The light coming down
comes down to you both, all the way.

 
 

Ezra Dan Feldman is a Ph.D. student in English at Cornell University and the author of “Habitat of Stones,” a collection of poems. “Salt from the Moon,” his current project, explores the virtues and perils of detachment—at home, out of doors, and in deep space.