Air

She took us there to teach us what happens when water leaves a landscape

'Tke me away from the tees' he says in sleep,
his nordic slate-grey lake brain
ticking over, infecting heat.

She tries to help him see between the reeds,
free his ankles from the plastic bag of drugged eels,
fast-crawl past the geese with their disagreeing knees,

but the tractors underneath, hold heavy hours,
like newborns strapped to his chest,
fists beating a surface breast for air.