Monk in the Dark

Don’t take my word for it—look
And in a while you will see
A face on the lawn, a face
In the tree, a face up high
Drawn in points but not one line.

On the lake so dark it’s clear,
Glass waves to depths of black tea.
The face floats that has no eyes
But a fine, clear set of teeth.
Some say it’s the god of fish.

Look, no one cares if you see
A face here or there. You may
Have heard that monks used to dream
Of girls who hid their snake feet.
Not true. Monks dreamed of the eyes

That could see what they could not,
The face of the next god sunk
In the lake by the stone church
Where a monk in the dark drew
A god you’d not want to see.