In Syros’ harbor abandoned merchant ships lay idle.
Stem by stem by stem. Moored for many years:
CAPE RION, Monrovia.
KRITOS, Andros.
SCOTIA, Panama.
Dark paintings on the water, they have been hung aside.
Like playthings from our childhood, grown gigantic,
that remind us
of what we never became.
XELATROS, Piraeus.
CASSIOPEIA. Monrovia.
The ocean scans them no more.
But when we first came to Syros, it was at night,
we saw stem by stem by stem in moonlight and thought:
what a powerful fleet, what splendid connections!