Amphorae cannot stand on their own, they
must be stacked, like cordwood, like brick:
lashed in ancient commerce, such cargoes —
too rich for the average Greek, bent
while hauling water from a well.
A crude pot, shaped by the hands
of a child for its mother and cherished,
holds more than all the rancid oils
and vinegars strewn about the floor:
lost against the rocks of the Aegean Sea.