My dear ones all, we expect no hint
of any iceberg or other such calamity,
nor typhoons, floods, landslides,
nor any fractured bones. We expect
even our eggshell porcelain teacups
to remain, as ever, unharmed. These
are our expectations. Shall we be
surprised, insulted, injured when our
expectations are not met? To whom
shall we write our letter of complaint
as we break and burn?
For NaPoWriMo, Day 26.
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
Nifty!
Thanks! The inspiration was an article about the sale of the last known letter written onboard the Titanic.
I saw that article! I really like the echoes of the letter in your poem. I like what you do with Vince Gotera’s sonnet-adaptation form, too.