Elegy

I will only, lonely miss you When the sky breaks black or blue, When the sun brights high to low Or the moon’s white frothly glows, When the far-fired stars are out, If truth lies intact or doubt, When I’m sleeping, dream-sopped, waking, Walking, talking, stone-still, shaking, With each futured step, word, fear, Thought, cough, laugh, sneeze, smile and tear, In and out each washful breath, Out and in to birth from death, While the waves still salt the sea. Now tell me quickly: when will you miss me?