As if you know the story of Wallowa Lake: 
Leviathan first hid in the deep where her children sleep 
She kept them hidden from the plague 

But have you heard the story of my mother’s fate? 
She left us in Detroit in the rain with a pillow case 
Fortune for the paper weight 

We followed her to Joseph, near the Indian raid 
She wept among the weeds, hide and seek, for the fallen chief 
Spathiphyllum on his grave 

And like the cedar wax wing, she was drunk all day 
We put her in the sheet, little wreath, candles on the crate 
As the monster showed its face 

As she waits for her children in the shade 
Demogorgon or demigod the ghost parade 
No oblation will bring her back to our place 

She stayed within the deep end of Wallowa Lake 
The undertow refrained with the flame of a feathered snake 
Charybdis in its shallow grave 

She gave us one last feature: the fullness of her face 
In the shade of “Hin-mah-too-yah…” (Red Napoleon) 
As the demon took her place 

As we wait for the waters to reside 
Her remarkable stoicism and her pride 
When the dragon submerged we knew she had died