Ghost Ship

Charlotte Oliver

by

The darkness hangs more thickly,
drapes black silence where
low night-time voices should move
the wood-knotted air,
breathless on the water,
an emptied lung,
no-one hears
the soft gasp of moon’s sway
taunt its aching hull,
or sees
the curtained eyes shut tight

against its loss.

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A BBC-commissioned poet, Charlotte lives by the sea in Yorkshire, England, and has poems recently published/forthcoming in Daily Drunk, Spelt, Ice Floe Press, One Hand Clapping, Neuro Logical, Spelt, Poetry&Covid and Dream Catcher.