Three Poems
by Suellen Wedmore
Poltergeist
The keeper of Mantinicus Rock Light committed suicide,
hanging himself from a beam in the lighthouse tower….
—Folklore and the Sea: The American Maritime Library, Volume VI
Ghost? no I don’t believe but hear
doors creak smash bang…
silence drove him mad they said
long days gray & gray & gray
his wife gone Halloween even the gulls
flown south but I walk in science
don’t expect these shattered plates splintered glass
scent of pine smoke
chairs scooting across the floor
cough like a loose
guitar string & no one there
the light in the tower
exploding no yes perhaps?
here a hammer & nails
sturdy board! close off that tower
leave this (I do/ don’t believe
perhaps) to the privacy
of his/her/ its
own haunted place.
At Owl's Head Light
—Owl’s Head Light, located on the south side of the entrance to Rockland Harbor, Maine, is number one on Coastal Living’ Magazine’s most haunted lighthouse list.
Who is that man in a captain’s cap
standing at the top of the light tower,
& who the imaginary friend
who coaxed little Claire to warn her father,
the lightkeeper, in the middle of the night:
Fog’s rolling in; put the foghorn on!
Christmas morn, there are footprints
in the snow, leading toward the light—
where are the steps that lead away?
Is Responsibility a forever after trait?
The tower door mysteriously left open,
the lens & brass mysteriously shine.
Along this coast thousands were lost:
the Angel Gabriel, the Nancy,
the Imperial, the Annie C. Maguire:
men, women, children, all drowned—
how can there not be ghosts circling the light,
like notes from a lonely man’s violin?
A woman’s figure, dressed in white
stands evenings, gazing out the parlor window
& who was that, sitting silent
at the keeper’s son’s bedside as he woke?
DOGTOWN VILLANELLE
—after a walk through fifty abandoned acres in the center of Cape Ann, Massachusetts.
Sometimes even a town falls in upon itself,
but in spring, when the dead wander at night,
you may find its abandoned heart, toughened
by tears; Red-Light Molly, defeated by hunger, by grief,
a war hero, Peter Lurvey, bleeding in the harbor’s fading light;
sometimes even a town falls in upon itself;
ghosts lurk in the shadows of its rocks and rifts,
where cellar holes and silent roads are anyone’s right.
Here now, in spring, find a town’s heart, toughened
by recalcitrant fields, a battlefield’s slight,
Cornelious Finson scraping by on waylaid wildlife.
Sometimes even a town falls in upon itself
and cries: at the Clark family’s doorstep, worn by life’s
fickle tread, prosperity gobbled by blight:
come spring, you may meet the town’s dead, toughened
by ridicule and scorn, by time’s rebuff,
as they share their pain with us (as is our right)
for even a town may fall in upon itself.
Their history is our history our history—toughened.
BIO: Poet Laureate emerita for the seaside town of Rockport, Massachusetts, I have recently published a book "A Fixed White Light: Poems of Women Lighthouse Keepers" (published by Down East Books,) This resulted from research during my years of passionate interest in lighthouses--which led me to investigate the stories of haunted lighthouses as well. "At Owl's Head Light" and "Poltergeist" were written at this time, based on stories I read or heard. Living on Cape Ann, Massachusetts, I am part of a team who offers tours of Dogtown, the oldest abandoned settlement in America, and "Dogtown Villanelle" was written based on stories we found as we researched the area. I have an MFA in Poetry from New England College and five of my poems have been nominated for a Pushcart prize.