Pasalimani, Piraeus
As we walk, you recollect
your youth spent in this neighbourhood,
before the concrete aprons turned
the shallow tide to slime,
before the tall apartment blocks
turned gardens to sarcophagi,
displacing lanes of lime-washed cubes
and fragrant tropes of jasmine.
Pasalimani harbours craft
without regard for hierarchy,
schooners, caiques and rotting hulks
moored deck to deck with luxury;
ancient, porous walls subside
beneath the press of centuries;
quays once black with Smyrna's
casualties lie grey and empty.
The season's sweeter days have been
expended, one by one; we drink
the dregs of winter sun like vintage
from a withered vine. We reach
the headland - Attica extends beyond,
like future time, the sea leans out
to meet a dim horizon.
Luminous with change, the morning
blossoms into afternoon, light touches
lovers briefly with its grace,
the world moves on.