Undone

Undone

the sky burns
with the same chemicals
as the ooze in the port
for which you feel neither
responsible nor absolved
but the third feeling which
both the guilty and innocent
call “implicated,” and
though you cannot see them
you know that the roof
of the clouds and the floor
of the canal
are lined with cast-off
evidence, like your soul
which at its best
was never clear water
but a neater scrawl