A Ghostly Seasound Poem by Stan Petrovich
A Ghostly Seasound
The Peal of a Distant Foghorn:
I think it is real
Or it the wind blowing into my ear
In some anatomically weird way:
It is a grunt in the air;
It attracts nothing
But warns of New England's rocky presence.
The ship I can discern
The outline of
Is a ghost ship
So it will not photograph...
I will board it one day
And look back at the shore like a stranger
Hearing a foghorn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 9:12:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
