Dead Man's Reef

Dead Man's Reef looms in the dark
to our starboard side as we approach
the cut into Atlantic City.
Ghosts of dead sailors rise
in the night, call us to join them.
'The party is just starting',
one yells, flashing a flask of rum.

Did pirates carrying gold pieces 
give name to this reef, we wonder,
or was it settlers, hold filled with goods,
shaking with terror when they struck?
I wonder how many sloops like mine
had lives erased in that spot.

Breaking waves that have plagued us
all night smooth to pink as we make
our dawn turn into safe channel,
glad to be rid of old ghosts, glad
not to become such, ourselves.




Pris Campbell
(c)2012


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