3048. AT THE GRAVE OF HERMAN MELVILLE

AT THE GRAVE OF
HERMAN MELVILLE
They have fractured the time I am living through;
though I came with nothing, I am leaving with a
million memories of time and life and objects.
In solace, like a broken dog at the end of a leash,
I stand soaking wet, looking down. At my feet,
in the marsh, lies a space. Something I myself
should fill? Never knowing, never sure, I take
instead one hard step back. Solid ground
still holds me. I am part of another race.
-
Yes, I felt a void and I felt a space.
The fierce, wet wind was blowing
rain across my face.