The craggy edge, now blurred
in Japheth’s view, the clouds obscured
his father’s raised hand on a ridge
some distance back, the pale outline
of a tragic past, steps behind.
Along the mud flats, the imprints
of leviathans and lizard kings,
he saw the embankments, Hercules’ flanks
standing to guard against the inflowing sea,
now humbled, now broken, the long plain washed clean,
drowned in Atlantean tears.
Somewhere Enkidu shouts, somewhere a ship founders.
Long is the memory of man, but men forget.