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 ….
rogermoorepoet 
Wow is right!
a pocket full of posies
gathered into a dreamless sleep
they have all fallen down ….
The black plague children’s dance…terrifying and brilliant, Roger!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Tanya. As I have said, I don’t know where these images came from. I woke up one morning, and there they were. They knocked at the door of my head and I let them in. They walked around for a while, drifted down to the ends of my fingers, and came out as ink. Thanks for being here with me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always welcome, Roger. The privilege is mine…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Shared: I like what you are writing too. I want more about grandpa. AND I want to see something on neologisms.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sad but very fierce and pierces each soul out here!
I am amazed how beautifully you included so many things!
This is great Goger!
Gday
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLike
Wow, just wow… You’ve captured the feel of the tragedy perfectly. Oh my word, Roger, so good. And so terribly sad. Bravo, my friend.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Meg. I am working on the full text and will have it ready for publishing soon. Meanwhile, we’ll proceed poem by poem. If you like this one, you will be really wowed by the next section … hang on … hang in there …
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eagerly anticipating!
LikeLiked by 1 person