And then one morning, after nearly 100 years had passed, Tulare Lake was back. Resurfaced with a soaked soil gasp, ringing drenched gravestone bells and clawing out of its California vale like an exorcism botched. Its undead reflection was ravished, ready again to swallow the sky. The lake was deeper than I remembered, wider too. The locals swear it comes back acrimonious; a self-haunting spirit, possessing its own parched catacomb, washing away the sins of land. If you don’t believe in ghosts, touch its wet skin yourself. Fill your lungs with black mirror and breathe deep in murky depths. Can you deny a wound once your finger has entered? Careful not to linger, nothing quite thirsts like a lake. We defined them as ghosts as a confession, an acknowledgement that water always had a soul. Can you blame us for believing that if something is not there it must be gone? Disappearance is so easy to mistake for demise. Tulare thought we would hail its re-emergence, name it miracle, Lazarus of the rain, a nymph of marshy torrents. It thought we might give this second life another chance. Instead Tulare got treated like any other ghost; disbelieved, ignored, everyone wishing for it to die once more. It floods towards my front door, laps against the walls, giant white sheets flapping in the wind, phantom moans gurgling beneath its watery breath. It whispers in frog song; reminds me that nature does not need our mourning, that the only resurrection our human bodies receive will be drowned within its dripping grasp. A few days later, the Tulare dried up again, leaving a corpse of mud and mosquito eggs. I still don’t feel safe. The locals wonder how long it’ll last. Did you know a hole can appear anywhere on Earth, that the dead may outlive us all, or that a tragedy can lie dormant for centuries and still furiously thunder itself to life and back?

Dante Novario is a writer living in Louisville, KY. A Pushcart, Rhysling and Best-of-the-Net nominee, his poetry has previously appeared in Notre Dame Review, Nimrod International Journal, The Pinch, Midway Journal, KAIROS, Burningword Literary Journal, and Strange Horizons. His poem “I Drink Rivers” was selected as a finalist for the 2024 Prime Number Magazine Award for Poetry.