The iron palace of electric light
steams into catastrophe and idiom,
a culture’s symbol of folly
The last, late sailing of the nineteenth century,
or the first of the next, it never arrives.
Unexpected, unheeded icebergs rise
from calm, dark seas.
The Captain loses face
and chooses death. The steerage,
having nothing to lose, gains nothing from death;
rushes from the vortex of the sinking ship
into frigid waters.