Water Works I and II – By Don Knies
On Perch Lake, the dawn fog,
At a New York ocean beach,
The year’s first drowning hits.
Relaxed on the water at morn,
Bright and thick, the nine o’clock fog
Stirs, and touching none,
Floats south, ending its dance with the sun.
But wrenched by the tide
The city girl’s ride
To the ocean’s side
Turns suddenly west.
Drawing and clawing her body down
And around, five days hence, to be found
In the shallows of the bay,
A full ten miles away.
Still Perch Lake water by ten o’clock
Welcomes its swimmers from float and from dock:
This water, so calm, which elsewhere can rend,
Flout human intent, wrenching life to an end.