211

Further on, the trees broke for

A fleeting instant on the prospect

Of a narrow stretch of river that

Lay grey and overhung with low

Branches, where diseased lilies

        Lay on the water like debris.
        It was a slow capillary that
Drank of the dust coming from
        The rails and of the pollen
        And blossom from its edges.

In the water a white crane stood
        Hunting for fish, a silent and
Deathlike figure in the dropping air,
        Its eyes covered with black as if
        By a mask and its ear seeming
Stained with blood or covered with
        The satin of a crimson banner.

After a moment this all passed,
Remaining only as a pale iteration
In my mind. The memory decayed
Almost at the moment of its forming,
        So that it was all but gone
Several minutes later, when I
        Looked up and saw that the seat
        Across from me lay empty.