Poking around the perimeter of an islet not much bigger than a tennis court, I happened to look down as an imperceptible surge rolled back the island’s fringe of rockweed to reveal this old wooden trap.

I had thought myself alone, yet suddenly there was the presence of humankind on the island with me. Whose trap was this? How did it fetch up here? What were the stories in this?

A portrait of someone missing…but who and how and why?

I titled this Ghost in response to those mysteries, but also because a trap that is lost to the sea keeps fishing, keeps catching lobsters that, in turn, feed on the lobsters that preceded them into the trap. These are known as ghost traps…they just keep on fishing.

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Meredith Ralston