Greece was burning; we flamed our last words.
A dryness of tenderness gone wrong, skin taut
In an unremitting refusal.
Pain singes. A man and woman separated
By a sere hillside
Grasses vulnerable, no forces left to save us.

The next day the flames reached Olympia.
I sent him a last letter. Now we are stone.
There were tears for memories
Not of him, not yet
Tears for the Peloponnese
Memories of Zaharo
Where I once saw massive headlines
Announcing the fires at Chernobyl
Or Areopolis in the Mani
Where I stumbled drunk
into the heat of a long-ago marriage.
Or Kaiafa, safe by the water, beyond the flames
Where, pregnant, I first heard my child speak to me

A world is burning up. So it goes
With sentiments left to dry
On sere hillsides. I pray for Olympia,
For the safety and tenderness of memory
For the day soft stone will resist fire.