名人诗歌|The Reservoir

The smell of the reservoirits breeding and corruption：that too was in our heads.

Our limbs across beds dense^{1 with thyme and the rough tongues of mint，}

their needling scents^{2 against the unmaking odor of the water downhill.}

The two of us in the night garden above that rift^{3 of water filling the dammed-up valley，}

its drowned graves and little churches. The two of us there； the reservoir below：what's proximate， what's distant.

I envy us that lost August of our bodies， pale and given to the sounds of breathing and skin

that silenced our other natures. In a tangle^{4 of stems，the season's plait of green，}

our forgotten selves，a moon-white leg and length of back sunk in the loam^5，

the memory of our shapes still in the dirt， in the underground hives made from thaw^{6 and ice.}