DESPITE HER PAIN, ANOTHER DAY

River fogs (7 AM) stray and begin, shiver and begin

on the September mill rocks.

Bits of leaf mirror along. I have arrived at my sanity.

Evidence (7 PM): while she medicates I walk by the river.

Millwheel smells like wet cornhusk.

On my back (2.38 AM) in the dark at Dorset Motel I listen to the radiator click

and to her, awake on the other side of town

in the hot small room

gripping a glow-in-the-dark rosary.

Whatever they say about time, life only moves in one direction,

that's a fact, mirroring along.

River fogs (7 AM) go flayed and silvery

when it dawns dark

on the day I leave.

DANGER DO NOT DROP OR DRAG ANCHOR

reads a sign just off the selvedges.

Mindingness gulps us.

Her on the bed as bent twigs.

Me, as ever, gone.

-Anne Carson