Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Poem 8: Titanic, 1912

A last strain of music moves
over the Atlantic, into space
and rolls back the centuries.
I have often wondered
whether voices from the wreck
reach distant planets
as sound waves. A child's shoe
rests upon the seabed
but her laughter echoes among the stars.

3 comments:

  1. And after the Pavement poems come the Titanic poems... this so wistful and beautiful about a tragedy hard to fathom.

    Sorella

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  2. The child's shoe on the seabed makes the poem, I think.

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  3. Thanks guys. This is one I want to return to I think. It's been haunting me.

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