The past lies in the brine
Of equatorial water,
Parchment-folded,
Black ink veining where the quill paused.
Rich doldrums
Full of gold
Where Spanish sailors
Threw the Queen’s horses,
Palomino, the color of her hair.
On the Outer Banks
Each wave a breaking
Promise of the New World,
Lost colonies,
Lost ships, wild ponies
Swimming even now.
Copyright © 2014 by Jo Sarzotti. Used with permission of the author.