what was salvaged
& all but survived
ruin. Was sent
to the binder expert
in calfskin & vellum,
restorer of margins –
good man with a pastebrush
clicking his teeth
at the occasional
lacuna, gap,
A beam
fallen lengthwise smouldering
its fire’s black terrain
of collapsing
lynchstrips & plate armour
maps of some western states
has inwardly marred
a good chapter or two, the
last uncountable pages
will always be missing.
We have then
some tale all unfinished
of the knight gone crazy
in barber’s basin
helmet & paper shield
dragging his boots
from one rock to another.
A pity. And yet
watching the sea slide
in on the beachstones
under the sky’s plump
indifference, how
with each swell it returns
to itself, now
I’m not sure
I’d ever have read it.