Titanic Ice

Party streamers hang
Despondently like over cooked spaghetti
from the shiny brass bar optics.
Half empty sits a bottle of champagne
sports a tawdry pink paper party hat.

Five cardboard party horns stand erect,
dampened mouthpieces of cylindrical pyramids
pointing towards heaven, remaining
upright, despite movement from current swell

There's a silver tray
of half moon sliced fruit
sitting as a new deck of cards,
fanned out evenly the odd one missing.

Condensation drips and
rolls down the sides
of the Art-deco ice bucket
like a freshly cut vein.
Inside, an ocean of water.
 
No ice cubes or shards,
Apparently nothing floating
Anywhere near the surface
same as the water
surrounding us methinks

A child's teddy sits on the bar
holding a gaily coloured drinking straw.
A half full glass is expecting rain
carrying a Chinese brolly
with a lime handle.

An abandoned cocktail weeps
Into its lemon slice
I hear faint strings
There's an eerie echo
of "Nearer my God to thee"

It appears Teddy is off duty
And the bar is closed
I hear faint strings again.
as I pour myself two fingers of
Wild Turkey Bourbon,
and just wait for the arrival of ice


Authors Notes: This was one of the first poems I published on DU. Last year I sent it into the "Honestly Crafted Critique" got some really good advice from them, so this is the  new version, an amalgamation of the original poem incorporating given advice:

https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/183256-ice/