In the last days of the harbor city
mothers were towed to shore
like the last days of sagging freighters.
Their children carried the unfamiliar
scents of foreign ports: musk, herbs.
We were determined to find a use for these.
Appropriate gods were established
and their monuments raised;
we came in out of the sea but
we were still limp with fighting it.
We left something there, something blue,
but we could not remember what it was,
and the diving bells were in storage.
Men refused to put on their wetsuits anyway.