A May Flower
Dorothy May Bradford drowned in Provincetown Harbor
while the Mayflower was at mooring, December 7, 1620.
In green-shot bays my sweetheart sleeps;
She pierced the shadow of the boat
And disappeared—still I must keep
My courage safe from fear she floats
With staring eyes into the deeps
Where liquid devils jeer and gloat.
Did sharp-fanged woods spur Dorothy
To drink up death? No way to gloss
Over trials, nowhere to flee…
Her heart could augur only loss.
Whoever thought the changing sea
Would alter crossing into cross?
We pilgrims in the wilderness
Must curb our fancy’s imps and ghosts—
A penitent, I here confess
To glimpsing her along the coast:
I meant to say, God’s peace and rest,
But words fall dead when wanted most.
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qarrtsiluni 
Marly, this is wonderful. “…alter crossing into cross,” “imps and ghosts” and ” glimpsing… coast,” are terrific and your voice reading everything is perfect—as it should be, but, as I’ve said before, often isn’t.
Yes, wonderful.
Sounds just grand, and I love those “liquid devils”! Did you know we lived in P-town for two winters? Jeremy cut his first teeth there, among the artists and writers at the Work Center.
A hauntingly wonderful poem, Marly, and so beautifully read!
Thanks so much for pausing to leave a comment, you four, known and unknown!
And yes, I did remember about Provincetown. An appropriate spot for beginnings…
Other current-issue poems here:
http://www.mezzocammin.com/iambic.php?vol=2008&iss=1&cat=poetry&page=youmans
Your words are enchanting. They evoke such wonderful images in my head.
ghosts and goblins! They were all terrified I’m sure. All those women crashing into the New World.
I love the poem.
Do you know more about her?
M
Kudos from one braniac to another. :)