|
Ghost Nets |
1.
Forty miles of netting drifts across the ocean
seven thousand floats to keep it suspended
like a massive wedding veil
once entangled, fishermen cut parts free to slow/tumble
pushed, pulled
rolled up and down
become mile long ghost nets, adrift for years -
they ensnare steel cable, dolphins, lost treasures
doing the slow motion ocean dance
like Shakira’s hips that don’t lie
like the comfort sway of the autistic
Ghost nets blossom by no one’s intent
round and round they go by accident
breathing in filigrees of seaweed
exhaling jellyfish, the transparent heart of electric love
2.
This bridal veil of marriage was large enough
to capture all their friends and family
translucent enough to see the tease of joy
the veil that is union, home
the veil that catches and holds a woman’s vibrant heart
a hammock for sadness, becoming
a swaddling blanket for newborn confidence, then later
a flag to signal complicity
a tourniquet to staunch volcanic hemorrhaging
a scarf against wind and rain
a shroud for the death of belief in himself
a shroud for her belief in him, becoming
a noose thrown over an oak beam, strong enough
to support his weight, swinging to and fro
3.
This ghost net turns endlessly
an abandoned cast off in acres of ocean
an offering for mermaids to wrap
about their shoulders and breasts
studded with seahorses and jewelry from the Titanic
It passes between mother and daughter
a picnic blanket for feasts
later thrown over their heads for protection as
marriages break apart
like ships in a storm
Only the sleepless witness this ghost net rolling across
a winter sky as it gathers up
satellites, comet dust, distant planets
a bandana to capture the sweat of her brow
a kerchief to weep into
a sling to gather rocks, each one
another responsibility to bear alone
5.
This ghost net sweeps the breadth of the mind’s continents
trawling for gold nuggets amongst the debris
something to salvage and savor
a small knot of good to pass onto her child
This ghost net now a bone kite dipping and rising again
Signaling against thunderheads and azure sky:
I still believe
I still love
I am still here
copyright 2009
Nika
Cavat |
