On Boarding A Soviet Attack Submarine Poem by Ernest Hilbert

B-39, "Foxtrot"

Proud thug, wintry brute, black-bolted mauler,
Charred casing of dark steam and long nightmares,
I've known the vast dread your power incites.
Hauled along the quay, ruined old brawler,
Cauterized by war's arduous years,
Vodka-singed glint stalked through whisked ocean nights,
Savage lure and sinker, you must miss your
Arctic slink of missiles, Odessa's steps.
Sleeping needle, provoker of great duels,
I slip through small portholes in your boiler
To find my home on your yellowed war maps,
Lurk in your sullen coil, feel long-spent fuels.
In your grim hull, gorged with bergs and snowy kings,
My heart sinks and scrapes; it sings and sings and sings.