Ghost voice of Titanic (a poem)

Partly inspired by the Seed Mouth instrumental of the same name…

Scratchy, garbled
barely visible through the static

The droning drones on
not a hint of treble in sight

Nobody sang along as the band played on deck—
how far can the air carry the memory of a melody?

The concertina played in a bistro
that night in New York City
held out unknown promise to those listening

while the ocean found new spaces
to inhabit with darkness

where there’s no such thing
as a chill in the air

I live with static on my radio
it clings to the voices
as if desperate for life

The drone drops to a hum
not a hint of treble in sight

Voices overlap in a tapestry
just beneath the spectrum
then drop out

We can go home now

(7 December 2016)

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