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.
And after the Pavement poems come the Titanic poems... this so wistful and beautiful about a tragedy hard to fathom.
ReplyDeleteSorella
The child's shoe on the seabed makes the poem, I think.
ReplyDeleteThanks guys. This is one I want to return to I think. It's been haunting me.
ReplyDelete