In the middle of my life came the restless nights
when, wakening in the small hours
I crept out of bed, stealthily
so as not to disturb my wife's deep sleep.
Then out of the house, prowling the streets
in the silver light of a gibbous moon.
At the edge of the city I crossed the river
on the ancient iron bridge with rusting
girders and fraying cables
guarded by stone lions.
Looking down into the black water I saw
floating out to sea, the corpses of soldiers
killed in the Old War
and recent suicides.
All night I wandered in a wilderness
howling at the moon
among the fallen bricks and smokestacks
of ruined factories
in a graveyard of derelict cars
in the cemeteries of my antecedents
and lost comrades.
Clouds came and covered the moon
and it rained.
And when I came into bed, my wife stirred