LEAVING EQUAL-PEACE AT DAWN

In town to the north, a watchman’s final clapper

falls silent again. Venus slipping away in the east,

neighborhood roosters mourn, same as yesterday.

How long can life’s own sights and sounds endure?

My oar-strokes hushed, I leave for rivers and lakes,

distances without promise. I step out the gate, look

away—and all trace has vanished. These drug-cakes

shoring this old life up—they alone stay with me.