Poem 119: Trespassing

Slip unnoticed under the fence,

And sprawl in the tall grass

For a while, panting and laughing

With the exhilaration unique

To young people ignoring

A No Trespassing sign.

Never meant for swimming, that lake,

Which (of course) makes it covetable

As a cold, crisp, honey-sweet slab

Of watermelon on a Death Valley day.

Overhead, you see, the stars seem 

To be spinning backward, unspooling

Their spider's silk stories, though

You, pulling off and tossing aside

Clothing as you run

Lakeward, barefoot and free,

See only their dim reflection

In the still smooth surface

Of midnight blue water.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem 119: Trespassing