Finished—no new graves
though yesterday you counted boats
—side by side, adrift

breaking apart under the rocks
—done! here you are
adding rafts to the way

each sea long ago learned
how deep inside the storm
there must be a very big number

—a half-finished arithmetic
where you can’t carry over by one
the hand so close to the other

pulling on weeds
so you can include your fingers
take hold as if these dead

would never let go
and their great weight, their place
waiting in line.