Relic

'un objet trouvé' from my father's notebook
(from Duino Elegies: First Elegy
by Ranier Maria Rilke, with thanks to 
Colm Niland for sourcing it)

Maybe what’s left for us is some

tree on a hillside we can look at

day after day, one of yesterday’s

streets, and the perverse affection of

a habit that liked us so much

   it never let go.