The steps you once made, I once loved:
renaissance arch, two-tiered cupola, your neck’s delft
perfection. My heart is full of acts
I cannot speak the name of. Confession,
fretwork, your drawer of broken watches. I study those hands,
dream silversmith guilds, clay-layered fossil: is this what love is?
We prayed for the sea, you gave us
the water’s weight, here
behind half-shut doors I watch half-sunk
ships sail goods up streets alive with
one scale, two swords, crossed: is that you cradling wisdom in your lap?
Death is no accident, you said: time, water, the walls,
trees I have missed:
this is where we’ll meet.
(published in Event magazine)