when you were the Santorin
you were once worshipped as a fireking
south of Naxos, shaped by scirocco heat
far above surfacing the Sea of Crete
your feet
long gone hallow the cone
volcano down to the stones
i was born to sail the Cyclades
marble islands, starlight sang like an Aegean breeze
i was drawn by the myth of your monolith
like a perfect face is drawn by the scar
and was caught in the pour from a blast in the core
like a super-heated samovar
that