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The Andrea Doria

The Andrea Doria

I saw it from a distance at low tide.
I was fourteen, on vacation.
What beach was I on?
Who was with me?

It seemed such a fragile thing,
an extinct sea creature
lying on its side in the water,

drifting.

Later, I read of its collision
with the Stockholm,
off Nantucket Sound,
many passengers rescued,
forty-six perished:

May their souls rest in peace.

The world fills with tragedies:
from nature’s course
or human failings in all
their maddening forms.

But I was fourteen, on vacation,
thoughts of the sea I loved

upended, uncertainty’s
power now in sharp focus.

Who was with me that day?
What beach was I on?