In the acres of garden before an empty house an amnesiac prince
collects broken branches, prunes the fruit trees, plucks weeds from the
He speaks a broken language of beach and Broadway and on the way
to shore gets lost and finds himself in a cemetery at sunset, pink light
on the stones.
He cannot read the inscriptions but kneels down at a cenotaph
anyhow and recites the only prayers he can remember.
Why, when we wanted to speak to nothing but water, is he singing
verses down into the stone hard earth in a town he has never
belonged to, lost on his way to the shore?