¶ Coda for 610.1 · 12 April 2005 fiction/poem
We looked for you in this nearest water
until there was nothing in our hands but your salt
and though we tell parables of your fears
that we only ever believe as a kinder doubt than truth
we miss you in this city you left behind
in precious figures and previous shores.
until there was nothing in our hands but your salt
and though we tell parables of your fears
that we only ever believe as a kinder doubt than truth
we miss you in this city you left behind
in precious figures and previous shores.