A Book of Names by the Names

What would that look like? What sense
Would it make to you? Mmm. None.
No more than if the bees talked,
Or the leaves on the woods’ ground,
Heaps of wet rot, had a thought.
We know we’re not quite there yet,
But through you we feel we’re close.

We’re a drowned town in the lake,
A green guess in the waves, shapes
That aren’t of fish, not quite snakes,
A new kind of beast you’ve made
That is not a beast at all
But speaks, writhes, waits, name of names.
You made us pray. Now pray us.