Tuesday Poem: Ghosts, by Maria McMillan

I have seen ghosts

sliding under the surface,

skittish things flitting

in the boat’s wake

but only one has seen me.

A sea snake spiralled

out of the water

looked straight into my eyes

and was gone.

The dead can be reckless

I thought and then

Do I think this is death?

When I said goodbye to our sister

she curled small,

would not let me touch her,

never once lifted her face

while I was in the room.

My father cried

my mother patted me on the shoulder

and looked beyond me

to the garden.

I am not afraid of the sea

or the sun on my throat

or the gasp of the wind.

I am not afraid of the nights

where the sail is a shroud,

where we are not floating

but a weight passed forward

by many hands.

Credit note: "Ghosts" is included in Maria McMillan's first collection of poetry The Rope Walk (Seraph Press, 2013) and is reproduced here by permission of the poet and the publisher.

Tim says: I've enjoyed hearing Maria's poetry at various venues over the years, and so I was very pleased to hear that her first collection was coming out from Helen Rickerby's Seraph Press. I recently read the collection and enjoyed all of it, but two especial highlights for me were "Ghosts" and "1989", which Helen has recently run as a Tuesday Poem on her blog.

"Ghosts" is a beautiful, delicate and moving poem, and beyond that, I think it speaks for itself.

The Tuesday Poem: Sails beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars.