Aquatic Herd Poem by Lisa Williams

A tangle of white horns
bristles above the line of water—
You swim to graze, your pasture

those foliaged margins steeped in
accrual, like a word you can hear,
the hiss and rustle of bodies

plying wheels of water, the grind
of your teeth on familiar flourish.
Morning frays from the lake

this hour you don't
know barrenness, dry
stretch of sand without a trickle

or bloom. You are at home near algae,
near succulent moss, hooves scribbling
bottom layers.

Though you are helpless
to those who could see you graze
you might look dangerous—

Bodies hidden. Just heads
crowned with ghostly architecture—
a stripped and estranging forest
all branches. Or hollow spines.