big Florida lake, warm a million years,
feels the wind, the furrow of boats
complies with swimmers, birds and fish,
things floating off, the foregone
thrash of alligator tails
tornadoes twist and the lake lies flat
lightning, sometimes hail but
the F-18 that sunk alarmed everything,
the pilot's clothing separated now,
billfold gone to a quick fish
the lake behaves with a restless cupidity
her still blue sides turning a little
to the touch of divers, the skip of hooks
i have gone to ground chasing poems down
and lay nearby when that flyboy died,
feeling him choke through darting schools,
the waxy wings of another son
come to harm, his arc undone