Wallace Hartley’s last hours onboard the RMS Titanic
We played on,
eight band members soothing the passengers
fearful of just this:
the deep. Impersonal
overly long crushing defeat.
What despair, life
so brief, leaving shocked
The icy black sea held its breath
several beats as I reached for my violin
then turned to the White Star song book
for some favorites that might calm
A ragtime tune brought
no solace, so on cue we played a favorite,
I studied the stars
reflected in glassy waters as Nearer, My God,
to Thee soothed so few.
No one lingered
spellbound. No lifeboats for us. First Class
rushed frantically in search of
Sleepy children, hoisted
down in mail sacks.
Some fell overboard. A man
On I played, clutching
my violin, each note, my last
until my very last
would bubble up.
Margo’s poems have appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, Misfit Magazine, Light: A Journal of Photography & Poetry, Wisconsin Review, Midwest Quarterly, Slipstream, Agave Magazine, A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, and several Texas Poetry Calendars. Forthcoming poems are to appear in Civilized Beasts, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Main Street Rag's of Burgers and Ballrooms and Echoes Off a Canyon Wall. Margo says she thrives on closely observing film, photographs, and natural settings. And eavesdropping.
The Ekphrastic Review
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