Today's poem is by Wayne Miller
All our debris above the sunken ship
we among it
in what seemed a chosen patch
of the sea's dark gloss.
The pricked sky arced over like a slipcover; its edges
dipped into the water.
By the time the helicopters
dropped down their spotlights and helibaskets,
white-rolled the surf
with the force of their hovering,
we lived only in the thought of our rising
As we rose on our pallets of wire, I could see
the portholes far below, glowing
with those lights
we'd read by, dressed by, turn on and off blindly .
Just beads now clearly there,
but as distant from us
as a score is from its music. They dimly greened
the surface, pressed the debris
up into its meanings.
Then, just as we angled away, they all blinked out,
and the sea might as well have been empty.
Copyright © 2008 Wayne Miller All rights reserved
from Green Mountains Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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