The Lady in the Lake

by Lorraine Schein

This poem previously appeared in Unspoken Water 1, 2011

I am a deep hollow filled with water
and live in this clear blue castle  
that none can see.
Its crystal gates, portals to other worlds.

My throne is encrusted with fine sand, pearls
and your flung offerings.

I am clad in soft ripples
limned with small mirrors.
Reeds cling to and wreathe my face,
yet I can see far.

The moon watches over me, 
casts its pale reflections
to obscure my highest turrets. 

My towers’ flying pennants whip
wind-blown ripples to you above.  

Toss a coin into me for luck.

My thoughts are green–
my powers, lacrustine:
dissolving, floating, dispersing. 

Hear me, at night, lick at lovers’ feet.

Though I seem calm,
the wind blows me into 
columns of turbulence below.

that only the worthy
can rouse me from my glass palace
with raised sword in hand.

It will cleave flesh 
like a barge splits water.

Like love, 
it is an offering 
mysterious and triumphant,
bestowed from the depths.

© Copyright Lorraine Schein

Lorraine Schein is a New York writer. Her work has appeared in VICE, Terraform, Strange Horizons, Enchanted Conversation, NewMyths, and Eye to the Telescope, and in the anthologies Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath and XVIII: Stories of Mischief & Mayhem. The Futurist’s Mistress, her poetry book, is available from Mayapple Press:

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