Imaginary Lake by Stephen Hastings-King

That morning a lake appeared out back. Where grasses were concentric waves shudder across a silver surface of water.

He leans against the door takes a sip of coffee and thinks about submerged fragments of Pharaohs and disappeared fishermen on the floor of the lake at Aswan and why he moved from the city to this constantly shrinking hat of a place where bodies of water come and go in the night.

He remembers the grid-space of waveforms produced by the humming of overhead trolley lines: he only noticed the sound when he returned from a period in the country, like the neighborhood was welcoming him back.

Wrapped in electrical intimacy, he leans against the door and looks out across an imaginary lake.

.

Return to This Week’s Flash

10 Comments

Filed under Stephen Hastings-King

10 responses to “Imaginary Lake by Stephen Hastings-King

  1. I really like this, Stephen. The idea of visions from one place and another. Nice.

  2. Lakes appear out back on my property fairly frequently, too. Although I do not live in Egypt. Nice story, quirky, just my style. Nice take on the weekly theme too.

  3. “Wrapped in electrical intimacy…” — whoa. Nice one.

  4. Kelly Grotke

    nice. I like the language, the pull of the real and the imaginary lake, what a constantly shrinking hat of a place might feel like, how pain and intimacy might be the same

  5. stephen

    thanks for the lovely comments and for the reading.

    there was a 14 tide last weekend, so the marsh was entirely underwater. why that made me think of aswan i kind of understand, but how west philly worked it’s way in, i’ve no idea.

  6. guy

    There’s something about this piece that reminds me of, well, me. A certain melancholy, the solitude, the nomadic imagination… Maybe it’s just an egocentric mode of reading, but that’s often my reaction with your recent stuff.

    • stephen

      thanks, comrade. i think making the nano series about watching winter come and forgetting set this recent chain of texts into motion. i tell myself that they’re distant and formal exercises, but apparently that’s not so much the case. they’re not the same as where i’m at, but they’re not different from it either…

  7. Poetry in motion. Wonderful imagery and every sentence makes me reread. Gorgeous stuff, one of my favorites of yours. Peace…

  8. Al McDermid

    I have to admit I don’t quite grasp all of this, but I like the language, the apparent surreality of the scene.

  9. Pingback: Week # 30 – Urban convert | 52|250 A Year of Flash

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s