An ancient mariner lives in my brain.
Many seas has he sailed, seen many things.
A knapsack of memories, a snail shell
on his back, weighs him down.
His life: a broken record
on an unstable turntable.
He stops people in the street,
tells again the story of his ship,
trapped in the doldrums
where winds no longer blew.
Ghost days weight heavy.
Does he wait for the black patch
carved from the bible
to summon him home?
Photo: The Museum for the shipwreck of the Empress of Ireland, Pointe-au-Pere, Quebec. The Empress sank off Ste. Luce-sur-mer on 29 May 1914.