Titans

While reading, the metals walls creak.

Silence in this ship, silence in the ink

that sets the scene, fills the sky, billows

in the corners, down the corridors,

and presses up against the windows.

And creak.

A little rumble, little tilt, little shake

the ship built for the void of space

tumbles like a toy-boat in an overflowing sink.

And creak, and creak, and–

Sink.

Earth like the sea, parting.

Outside, lit by a solitary eye,

the rocky ground is splintering.

And light.

Another grumble, another flash,

and heat and heat and heat.

Another ship, like the titanic,

drowning in the ink.

We sink,

sink,

sink.