On memory

clumps of stones and timber fragments visible at low tide
as I went down to the harbour wall
as I climbed into the bottomless boat
I looked back and back but no tears

a fragment of weft-faced compound twill or samite
what was the perfume it carried
the cloth she used to staunch the blood
before my wound caught cold

a mound and contours of a moat
morning light shone through a casement
the lips I think were similar
it was maybe her name but no not the face

placenames confirm a once-extensive afforestation
where does madness take you
I was sleeping out in the wildwood
so pitiful even my enemy spared me

a blade with flat thin cross-section and vestigial inscription
we kept this sword between us as we slept
it read defensor fidei
it corroded

the lower section of a blue glass bottle with indeterminate residue
we like our stories with endings and beginnings
and of course the love potion
I had quite forgotten the love potion