IX**

I rust.
I, who they called ‘unsinkable’—
--once
Sleep in ghostly slumber.
In my cradle I sense
Bodies breaking down.
They cry with me about
Loss and sacrifice,
sometimes when I forget to feel.

The Grand Staircase is screaming
Every last table and chair are
Kneeling
Baby dolls are weeping-
Do they lust for eternity?

At times I yearn for my lost children
Those that lie yards
From my mast
And those generations descended
Alike
They should walk my bow
Caress my stairwell
Dance in my parlor rooms—
Shake me awake
For you are
One thousand, five hundred
And seventeen
Perished
And I am
One
Not yet dead.