Elegy

In a distant room
You are always dying
We watch it come
Slowly in its way

And with great speed
In advance as in retrospect
Past future perfect
The imagined happening

Remove the visible world
Its crowds of guillemots
Its auklets and street signs
And stones

They promise to offer
Less but for longer
And we would take it
But in the end
There's no offer made

There are measurements
Too small for taking
There are imperatives
Too large to see

All they find is a name
Moonlight on the strait
The San Juans at midnight
The iron waves

In a distant room
You are always dying
In a distant room
You are always dying
In a distant room