Versions

From here I can trace
every step I’ve taken
to this place

That time of year
when the door won’t close

What ails you, uncle?
Where do I begin?

He was for’ard when the steamer struck
midships aft of the capstan out of fog

How do you love me? Let me count the likes.

Sick with murder and with war,
the push of his wife,
the blind pull of the seer…