In Memoriam, W.G. Sebald
This too came to pass: a shock as the island clouded over: sweet mist of sleet rain raining to the good God ground, my eyes, guided, only light-strings born in and down to scaffolding.
It holds me here, miles from home, and scorned, dangling in rain. My eyes closed over, God, to the moment—to movement in the dark of a whorish night when, ashamed, this sleet falls as rain and in this rain, sleep.