POETRY PAGE

43º37'23'' N. 70 º12'28'' W

by Rebekah Wolman               after Sail On, a photograph by Michelle Bianco

 

What registers: nest of rock sheltering the Keeper's

triple-chimneyed red-roofed house, outbuildings attached

and huddling against the broad base of the tall lantern-topped cone

of white-painted rubble-stone—the lighthouse anchoring the eye

against cloud-veiled sky. Ripples tickle tide-tarred rock.

 

Scant breeze flaps the flag trapezoidal. Weathered layers 

of rock reach beyond the photo's edge—visible sign

of invisible ledge that carpets the floor of Casco Bay

with hazards, remnants of volcanoes here before

dinosaurs, surfacing as islands you skirt sailing in.

 

Now, you're out there, 24 nautical miles from shore.

What registers: water, wind, wheeling gulls, swooping terns, salt spray,

creaking mast, luffing sail. A flash of light crowns the horizon, four

seconds wait and flashes again—the beam you call

Light-my-way-home tendering promise of safe passage

 

into the Bay. The light on Halfway Rock flashing red.
Double white flashes from Ram Island Ledge.

Foghorns every ten seconds, every fifteen, two blasts

every thirty. Closer in is Alden's Rock. You try not to think

about the steamship Bohemian's hull torn ragged

 

on a February night in 1864, Cape Elizabeth light in view

but distance skewed by weather and 42 lost overboard.

Finally, the sloping rocks of Portland Head where the Annie C.

Maguire ran aground in a Christmas Eve blizzard, 1866.

What registers: Keeper rescuing captain and crew.

 

Now, below its pulsing beam, the lighthouse takes its form again,

stolid stone cone that keeps its promise, welcomes you home.