Lake Whisper

he, twelve, to the ice
 the empty stairs
      47
        26
          15
   and across, the spots down
 the ice humming, or the lights
           dead
      one step cold for the socks
           wet through wool
       no skip no jump
      on knees
              hush
          shush
       the ear warm
           to the ice
        cold
            still wet
       and he, twelve, listened
     for sop or sob or anything
        for six original hearts
      for the thrum silo shinny machine
     but none
              but nothing
      and he lifted, wisp that he was
     climbed the stairs
             19, 33, 85
      to the  mezanine
                      and alone
                                    to search further

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