for Jake
“All that matters is feeding the lake. I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake.”—Jean Rhys
You lie on your stomach
your arms folded underneath
your body— a wild gypsy drunk off wine.
There are devils in the cards,
chained and waiting.
The moon inside our chests bleeds
a lake of light and cold dust.
Feed the lake.
Temperance—
masculine and feminine
are one universe.
All the knowledge that exists,
exists inside our bodies.
We search for a key
to the door to make the door
open.
Feed the lake,
make the door open.