Fog on the Fourth

As I said in a previous post, fog ruled the coast of Maine this long Fourth of July weekend, as it often does. We went to see the ocean Sunday and Monday and never saw more than the waves crashing on the shore. The fog kept a constant presence. This, on the other hand, is a rough impermanent draft preceded by its later rough revision(updated 12 hours later):

Colossal Fog (rev-1)

The fog remembers when sheer sea was all
the earth knew, before land became the god
called Turtle, worshipped by the ones who left
to over-fish its once abundant cod.
(They gather at shores flirting with the sun.)
It wishes for them this oblivion
the Gulf of Maine concocts with dew point, depth,
and Frankenstein inventions from thin air.
So no one believes in monsters any more—
but those who know this coast of Maine beware.


Fog on the Fourth (original draft)

The fog remembers when its sea was all
the earth knew, before land became the god
called Turtle, worshipped by the ones who left
to over-fish, in time, abundant cod,
and gather at its shores, flirting with sun.
It wishes for them this oblivion
the Gulf of Maine concocts with dew point, depths,
and Frankenstein inventions in thin air.
No one believes in monsters any more,
but those who know this coast of Maine beware.

Gregory Perry 2004