before you excavate me

if we didn’t excavate

would history be hidden?

is knowing about something

the essence of its existence?

philosophers suggested before

that to be is to be perceived

I burnt a candle in a church

of some saint for someone

to have the right tools

and to begin digging

into my love

I also thought this poem

would be about something else

it’s not

as hard to admit this, though

in the ancient city of Thessaloniki

nothing new under the sun

potent sentiment

it turns out this poem is about

the symbolic bows to rituals

and the hope for gestures

to exude the scent of what’s

hidden

the architecture of the yet

unexcavated cities

of desires to be known

way before they’re merely

perceived as artefacts