For the TitanicOur eyes as hollow as deep
sea creatures'. We don't look for bones.
A hat will do, a boot lodged in silt.
There was no journey's end for you.
We look with our saucer eyes,
and try to bring back life with rusticles
and their relentless progress.
We search for decay, because decay
means rest, our minds confused
between hubris and the human soul.
So we seek out the Turkish bath,
the grand stairwell, the habitats of the vain.
We don't want to see the bunks of the lowly.
We look for the shark's-tooth tear,
for the bulkhead plates, the mahogany
and the lifeboat davits and the pistons and
propellers and chandeliers and clocks
and the lodgings of the rich, and our
empty eyes pass by the drifters and
their naked bones.