Dead yet desired by the man who kept on digging

the archaeologist's laughter ripples down his chest at the sight of my foot

his laughter reaches the sun and the only star visible at this hour

He lifts me like a goatskin full of fresh water

looks me over from head to feet

62 centimetres long and 5 centimetres wide

marble chiseled in marble

wets me with saliva so he can see my original colour

dries me with his shirt-tail

is enraptured by the purity of my stone and how it resisted burial

fascinated by my narrow loins

by my unscathed limbs

a little clay and know-how will fill the two nicks in the groin and the right foot

Once the boat has left for the mainland

and Syros is given back to the jackals

he spreads a jute sack on the ground ready to spend the night in my company

Why does he ask me my name when my ears are sealed […]