Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch.
And look!
My last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.             I miss them,
but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you
(the joking voice, a gesture I love)
I shan’t have lied.
It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like

(Write it!)