From Thanksgiving in St. Eustatius
On a moonlit night off Statia’s shore,
We slipped below where the light’s no more,
Where flashlights carve thin blades of light,
And shadows learn to breathe at night.
A basket star unfurled its lace,
Unknown to the human race.
It reached and curled with ghostly grace,
A tangle of arms and a very pale face.
We hovered close, our bubbles slow,
What else did the darkness choose to show?
For in the daylight’s fading wreck,
Where rust eats steel and time breaks neck,
A grappling hook with coral slunk,
With something pale beneath the gunk.
Not coral, not bone of fish or beast,
But a human pelvis, claimed by the deep.
We stared. It grinned. The sea stood still.
The wreck exhaled a colder chill.
Two divers rising, hearts turned quick.
Statia keeps secrets as thick as silt.
So mind the dark, and hold your light tight.
Not everything on Statia sleeps at night.
by Amanda N. Smith at Golden Rock Nature Resort in St. Eustatius during Thanksgiving