In late summer,
the lake, boiling
like a cauldron,
makes sacrifice
to the witches
of Chicago,
swallows swimmers
and bystanders
until they drown,
takes as many
to the bottom,
until they reach
the other shore,
the nirvana
of the Buddha,
extinguished lives,
boiled half-alive
in the cauldron,
a dozen eggs,
with a few cracked,
albumin seeps
out from pressure,
lacking balance,
we all fall down.
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