Λεωνίδα,

you should have seen your boys
this summer.

They stood at the edge
of the Aegean
with a friend,

three young men
looking into water
so clear
the stones seemed close enough
to touch.

No trumpet.

No paper
with a name
and a seal.

No hand
through cloud.

Only morning.

Light
across the floor.

The kettle

Where were you

when I spoke

and they erased me?

Answer.

Nothing.

Bring the robe.

Bring the ring.

Kill the calf.

The dead is alive.
The lost is found.

Except

you had not come home.

You had come
for the inheritance.

Again.

A wedding.

A picnic.

A street no one remembers

except those

who walked it.