Pond Scum

   by Nadine Lockhart



I have become you in summer,
west of the dry path, 
west of the stone bridge and waterfall.

Long after wild onions begin their descent,
long after polliwogs and high school,
I grab a twig for balance. 

Starved mosquitoes 
ease the loneliness of rocks.
At night, the cool settles in.

You watch porno alone, and I,
more mud than wet,
close my eyes on an opal moon.