The Throw Poem by Eric Ratcliffe
The Throw
Barefoot on granite wait I,
who threw a silver javelin
into the shimmering land of whispers,
and watched the wraiths divide
as though a chime had ended Hallowe'en.
Somewhere beyond the dawn a mermaid died;
the sea sent her comb to me,
with a wisp of her poor green hair
and a sigh for the savage who speared for fish
where white immortals moved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 2:42:03 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
