The Weight Ascending Breaks the Air

I feel that way too sometimes,
going to work and coming back,
going to bed and
getting up, as if my life
were like the seiche
that brings the water of our lake
first to one side, then the next.

The weight ascending breaks the air
and from this lake, this spring, bodies ascend
like bubbles in water; there
resurrected with flatulent calm
and weighing no more than a scruple
they reach a vigilant level and
lose all pretense; their

gravity takes over.
Indifferent to all entreaties they hang
globular in the warming tub.
Yet the water yields, it suffers itself
that all these latest bodies
may rise through tranquil sea,
through standing lake.