Full Fathom

& sea swell, hiss of   incomprehensible flat: distance: blue long-fingered ocean and its

                                                                                                 nothing else: nothing in the above visible except

                                                                                                 water: water and

always the white self-destroying bloom of   wavebreak &, upclose

                                                                                                 roil, &

                                                                                                 here, on what’s left of   land,   

ticking of   stays against empty flagpoles, low tide, free day, nothing

                                                                                                 being

                                                                                                 memorialized here today — memories float, yes,

over the place but not memories any of   us now among the living

                                                                                                 possess — open your

hands — let go the scrap metal with the laughter — let go the

                                                                                                 upstairs neighbor you did not

                                                                                                 protect — they took him

                                                                                                 away — let go how frightened you knew he was all

along while you went on with your

                                                                                                 day — your day overflowing with time and

place — they came and got him — there are manners for every kind of

                                                                                                 event — he stopped reading and looked up

                                                                                                 when they came in — didn’t anyone tell you

you would never feel at home — that there is a form of   slavery in everything — and when was it

                                                                                                 in   your admittedly short

                                                                                                 life you

were permitted to believe that this lasted

                                                                                                 forever — remove   your   hands

from your pockets — take out that laundry list, that receipt for

                                                                                                 everything you

                                                                                                 pawned last night — decide whom to blame —

                                                                                                 stick to your

story — exclude expectation of   heavenly

                                                                                                 reward — exclude

                                                                                                 the milk of

human kindness — poisoned from the start — yes — who ever expected that

to be the mistake — with all the murderers and miracle workers — with the hovering

                                                                                                 spidery

                                                                                                 fairy tales — kites, angels, missiles, evening

papers, yellow stars — clouds — those were houses that are his eyes — those were lives that

                                                                                                 are his

eyes — those are families, those are privacies, those are details — those are reparation

                                                                                                 agreements, summary

                                                                                                 judgments, those are multiplications

on the face of   the earth that are — those are the forests, the coal seams, the

                                                                                                 carbon sinks that are his —

                                                                                                 as they turn into carbon sources — his —

and the festering wounds that are — and the granary that burned — and the quick blow

                                                                                                 administered to make it

                                                                                                 painless, so-

                                                                                                 called — his eyes his   yes   his blows his seed’s first

                                                                                                 insertion into this our only soil —

                                                                                                 &   the flower, the cut

                                                                                                 flower in my

                                                                                                 bouquet here,

made from the walk we took this morning, aimless, as if   free,

                                                                                                 where you asked me to

                                                                                                 marry you, &   the loaf   of

barley, millet and wheat I was able,

                                                                                                 as a matter of course, to bring to the table, fresh-

                                                                                                 baked,

                                                                                                 in life.