In the middle of the lake, Witch pours another lake. To pour more lake is to pour more sky. To pour more sky is to finalize the wait. In the middle of the lake, she pours more lake. Of water, she pours more water. The lake strengthens and overflows. Water condenses, is then submerged. It grows into ocean and fades back to lake. To flood is to overindulge, to excessively hold tight the might of love. The additional drips of lake make waterfalls, rivers, creeks, streams, puddles, ponds. All will be dry and all will be gone. The lighthouse keeper drinks new lake and waits for old lake to reshape. It takes skillful gills to maneuver through blue. To learn the unhurried storm. By lake and again by lake.
Benjamin Niespodziany is a Pushcart Prize and Best Microfiction nominee with work recently appearing in Fence, Fairy Tale Review, Wigleaf, and various others. He works nights in a library.
Lake illustration by C.B. Auder.
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