Schubert’s “Unfinished”

Three capsized moons

in a handful of water.

A broken boat  full

of larks and violets

I passed you and you were

yesterday’s rain.

I’ll come and find you holding

a taut string in your hand.

My name is Phaidon.

I have nothing more

beyond my raveled sleeve.

I no longer suffer the voice of the birds.

Athens, 1946.