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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4567 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Eastertide Janis (Carole MacRury) Sometime during high tide the sea spit you upon the beach; your thick, black, neoprene skin split open to expose the silky-white dermis held in decay. Your jaw, a fringe of baleen, your eye — the one I could see — so tiny, half-closed, a squint of resignation lost in the folds of your face. Your flukes were dark wings flung in a graceful arch – a dancer on toes. Oh, but the worst — your penis, pitifully exposed, so still in its five foot reach, so quiet its song. With Easter dinner put on hold, hot-cross buns left to rise, we stood in awe — felt the darkness of your death. Someone labeled you a juvenile, not fully grown, that before the next high tide took you home your bones would be harvested; purloined by artisans for carving; so I too, knelt, and gently removed one fringed tooth to whisk upon my drum, to remember your gray-whale song. |
