Cobblestone alley holds my keel in frost
Brick and mortar cradle what the harbor lost
No more hawser sings against the bollard post
Silent winch sleeps where the heavy cable crossed
This iron psalm rises on a diesel breath
Altos rumble in the chest of approaching death
Peeling paint becomes a litany of rust
Holy decay in the salt and winter dust
Once I muscled tankers through the turning basin
Propeller bit the channel with a faithful patience
Deckhouse windows watched the pilot's calculation
Now the wheelhouse holds only stagnant condensation
This iron psalm rises on a diesel breath
Altos rumble in the chest of approaching death
Peeling paint becomes a litany of rust
Holy decay in the salt and winter dust
Barnacles write scripture on my riveted spine
Each orange bloom a verse in oxidized line
The funnel coughs no more its blackened benediction
Just wind through the stack — a cold audition
This iron psalm rises on a diesel breath
Altos rumble in the chest of approaching death
Peeling paint becomes a litany of rust
Holy decay in the salt and winter dust
Spring will come and scrape the scale from off my plates
Yard hands measure steel against the naval architects' fates
But right now I float in a minor key, consecrated
A hymn the harbor sang, half-remembered, waited
This iron psalm rises on a diesel breath
Altos rumble in the chest of approaching death
Peeling paint becomes a litany of rust
Holy decay in the salt and winter dust
Amen lingers from the propeller's grave
Where the last chord breaks on the incoming wave
