Limpid was the spring that day
Difficult to taste and feel
Carbonized mornings will follow,
Will flow, rippling, into a timeless estuary.
Tomorrow will be an ageing yesterday,
And dolphins mute, and migratory birds featherless
You will be calling me by another name
My children will suck the milk of rumors
And grow in disbelief.

Trenchant will be your questions
And words will be spelt backwards
To rebuild a dry language
Water will fall from the sky
And fish grow from under the earth
Shadows of the undead distilled
In the moon night vision
I’ll be wiser and older.

I will have said my prayers
And au revoir to my fellows, by then;
I will be mourned and fed to the earth
Lustrated and re-taught,
I will have forgotten my life, my words
And my offspring,
And dumb and dry
I will try
To re-die.