March
Húsavík Notes
The last whale-watching boat
left Saturday.
No sight now of orca or minke.
It’s rain until March
and the whales have left for warmth.
Glacial melt seeps south.
Dip your toes in the ocean.
It’s a dare.
Needles of cold,
a burning which lets you know
you’re alive.
We feel the compass pull,
magnetic north
and its brittle sky,
thin as hand-blown glass
and just as easily shattered.
Eider in the sea.
Whale bones in the museum.
An orca jawbone lies on a concrete ramp.
No burial. No deep black sand. No tidal flow.
September 1st, 2006