It was not sufficient to put wayward
bodies back into their tombs.
I walked through the flooded wards
but turned suddenly back:
there was only a sliver of land
where the dead had not drowned
and I was not on it.
I welded myself between the days
of January, February. But they sang
as I boiled parasites from the bath.
They sang as I lowered into that water.
I wanted a blue night with blue-white rings,
lifts of smoke-light from the centuried houses.
To be on the balcony with Josh,
with Martin and Rose, watching smoke from chimneys.
I wanted to see others alive
and count myself among them.
But they sang as I boiled parasites
from the bath. They sang
as I lowered into their water.