Did Not Come Back

    In the roan hour between then & then again， the now， in the Babel

    Of a sorrel ship gone horizontal to a prow of night， the breach of owls

    Abducted by broad light， but blind， in the crime， the titanesque of rare

    Assault——we who have come back——petitioning， from the chair

    Electric with bad news， from the stunning， from the narrows

    Of an evening gall， from the mooring of an hour slanted on the follow

    Bow， she rose from a bed of Ireland like a flyted trout， a shiny

    Marvel on the sailor's deck， an apologia——divining——

    As once， as at a salted empire port， he washed

    Her fleeted body & they lied， the best of them， the cream & crush

    Of this， the madrigal & sacrifice of that， the best of them，

    The slowest velvet suffocation of their kind， did not come

    Whittled back by autumn， at an hour between thorn & chaff，

    Not come riddled with oblivion， the crossing & a shepherd's staff，

    The moment between Have & Shall Not Want， we who have salt

    Always know， that we who have——the best of us——did not come back.