Leuchtturm 1

What we treasure;
The remainders,

    When there is nothing to know
    But mud piling up
    Along the canal.
    The long list,
    The knife of fathers,
    Comets observed,
    Remembered.

We pull alongside that
Decade-thick list of only words
And understand the long legs
We find beneath us
By the falls.

    One more remembered lake-path;
    One more jungled abstinence;
    One more set of
    Childless nights
    Along the palisades
    And effigies.