The Curator of Shipwrecks
It has taken him centuries to measure
the rain near the shores, and longer still
to learn how far out to sea the scrolling
thunder scrolls. He taught himself the ways
the waves eavesdrop on the murmuring of tides
and he translates the whispers of undertows.
He knows the lore of driftwood from shipwrecks
long ago scattered across the bed of the ocean floor.
When the broken flotsam breaks the sands
he’s waiting there knee-high in water
to decipher their circular patterns
like the weathered runes of ancient stones.
Their wooden stories like our own, interrupted
by distant calls cutting through the fog:
an incandescent song useless to ignore,
drawing all towards the jagged rocks.
Aden Thomas lives in Laramie, Wyoming with his sons, wife, and a dog named Jake. His poetry and fiction has appeared previously in The Chiron Review, The San Pedro River Review, The Red River Review, The Avalon Literary Review, and The Owen Wister Review.