Excerpts for 49^th Shelf from Impact: The Titanic Poems by Billeh Nickerson.  Published by Arsenal Pulp Press (2012).

IMPACT

One passenger believed it was her husband,

the ship’s jolt just another expression of their love.

Others thought it was an earthquake

or a mishap in the galley—

a runaway trolley, a stack of fallen dishes.

The baker wasn’t sure what happened

though he hoped his loaves would not fall.

While airtight after airtight compartment filled,

a second-class passenger ordered his drink

with chunks from the berg.

A small child sucked pieces of ice

as if they were candies,

and her brothers scraped up snowballs,

their mother worried only

they could lose an eye.

THE PIANO PLAYER

Unlike his musician compatriots

whose instruments could be carried on deck

the ship’s piano player could only watch

as his band mates played on.

At first he just swayed to the music

then tapped his feet and hummed

but he couldn’t withstand

the ache to play along

even without a sound

his hands slipping from gloves,

his cold fingers

tickling the air, ghost-style.

CARPATHIA

By chance the Carpathia’s wireless operator

kept his headphones on

while undressing before bed

and in what should have been the last moments

of his long shift, he overheard messages

destined for the great ship.

Come at once.

We have struck an ice berg.

It’s C.Q.D., Old Man.

When her Captain learned of the disaster,

he ordered heating and hot water turned off

to conserve as much steam as possible,

so that her passengers,

scheduled for sunny Gibraltar,

awoke to cold cabins.

Although designed for only 14.5 knots,

she conjured up 17.5 that night

as she rushed to the rescue.

As she grew closer to the scene,

the Captain ordered rockets fired

every fifteen minutes

as a navigational tool for any lifeboats,

but mostly as inspiration

for those who’d spent all night in the dark.

When she arrived at four a.m.,

her crew couldn’t believe

all that remained of the world’s largest ship

lay before them in the wreckage

floating amongst the ice

and the lifeboats that speckled the sea.

Surely, there must be something else,

they thought, how could she

just disappear?

Billeh Nickerson was born in Halifax and raised in Langley, BC. He is the author of the poetry collections The Asthmatic Glassblower and McPoems and the humour collection Let Me Kiss It Better, and is the co-editor of Seminal: The Anthology of Canada’s Gay Male Poets. He performs frequently at literary festivals across Canada, and teaches creative writing at Kwantlen University in Vancouver. Follow Billeh Nickerson onTwitter: @BillehN

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