Outboard, the Running of the Souls

Maybe you only note
Our surface, this boring
Talk, these chattering waves.

What in the depths is more
Significant than that?
Is it since you’re a lake,

In a sense, a glitter
Facing the atmosphere,
A slow churn in the dark?

Given you hold drowned towns,
Suicides, sunken boats
You know you can’t cough up

Until you’re dredged and drained
And disappear, you think
What’s eerie about you

Is you, and depth is soul.
Depth isn’t soul. It’s dark.
These surface waves run souls.