Dark Night of the Empress

15 May 2002 Pre-Rimouski 035.jpg

Dark Night of the Empress

 Her cooled lights drowning now,
fires subsiding, dying under rising waters.

Grit and river-bottom clog the dream:
eyes and mouths wide open, faces blurred.

 Seaweed: mermaid’s hair
drifting slowly before the eyes;

the cold tide sucking in at ankle and heel,
pulling them down.

 Celluloid fictions,
black and white films,
their mouths stretched in a silent scream.

What became of the photographers,
of the men and women who stood their ground
clicking their cameras in unison
as the ship went down?

News!
The air breaks apart:
delirious with dots and devious dashes.

 The lighthouse light goes round and round.

It points a finger of silence at the collier
looming silent through the mist.

What price the black pearl in the oyster?

 What price the nightmare,
cleanly wrapped in transparent plastic,
desperate fingers tearing the see-through
fabric from the face?

 Salt water dashed on mouth and lips,
this dream:
sharp bows, wet rocks, and a tugging tide.

Toys and boys and dolls and girls
and men and women,
their bodies disgorged untidily,
their useless limbs
flopping at the sea’s foamed edge.

 Last night,
mist shredded itself on the sea-cradled headland.

This morning, the spring tide is a gentle hand
erasing life’s autographs from the witnessing sand.

Silence after the storm:

a pocket full of posies
gathered into a dreamless sleep

they have all fallen down ….

9 thoughts on “Dark Night of the Empress

    • Thank you. Hearing about the Empress, then talking about it, then reading about it, was a series experiences that leave a permanent mark. The museum at Pointe-au-Père then reinforced the historic and visual aspect. The movie theater, in which the sinking was re-enacted, provided an unforgettable set of episodes and these poems, written while walking around the shores where the survivors had landed, are the result. I am so glad you like them. Thanks for commenting.

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