Poetry - Issue 04 | April 2009

Two Poems by Martin Ott

Ghost Stand

Two eagles nest in a bleached stand
of dead pines, preserved in brine
from the earthquake that dropped
their roots thirty feet into ocean.

Tidewater glaciers ripple onto ice
fields that yawn hundreds of miles,
the crackle of ice plummeting
like thunder, like eggs breaking.

If one egg were to be destroyed
in the shell, the couple might try
again. Across the channel, a stone
fort points six inch guns down

to repel the Japanese. In Seward,
tsunami signs point up the mountain,
the town crisped from when oil tanks
poured a river of flames from giant

waves, the next earthquake inevitable,
the next war unbearably close,
the ice fields weeping into dusk,
two eagles living among the ghosts.

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About the author

Born into a gold mining family in Alaska, Martin Ott has traveled the world speaking a number of languages, all of which have been helpful in his work as a Russian linguist, a military interrogator and now as a screenwriter in Los Angeles. His fiction and poetry have appeared in over fifty magazines and anthologies, and he has optioned three screenplays. Visit him here.

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