You are sifting through the photographs
and documenting our union.
You ask me if I remember the abbey
Outside Strasbourg,
Or the strewn sheets of Lausanne.

In truth, I am involved in a project of my own.
I am not a mind, I am an archive of perpetual recollection.

In answer to your question:
The things that I remember most
Are the ditches filled with wild nettles and abandoned faded children's toys,
Which have lined the paths of all my journeys,
From the Wrekin hill to Hebden Bridge,
From Sloane Square to Lynfield Mount,
From Haworth Moor to County Down
From the fevered creche to the crucifix,
And back into my hell.

Baby, I remember everything.
I remember all too well.