[24 October 2019]
The earth is within us. We come from Dust;
We return to dust. And ash.
The clam shells and the pearls,
The reefs and the waves,
The florid lines of the grass on the edge of Chesapeake Bay
Mingled together and held aloft and set aflame,
A lone light quayside hill after dark.
Hills, levelled; memories, stolen
(I found them, once, but let them go
In chase of something better at the time);
Covered in concrete and plaster
And coasted in plastic and a thin pane of glass
(A eulogy and elegy in one)
Is all that saves us from finally seeing
For the first time.