The poet in Samos Here are the things you left behind: an old bus ticket to a place with an illegible name, a stack of government files from distinct regimes, a pile of rocks, a copy of Cavafy, well-thumbed. I don’t know how many meals you ate here, by the seaward window. I don’t know whether the shutter kept you awake at night as it … Continue reading ‘The poet in Samos’ by Richard Gwyn