day three
a group of female orcas gather around J35 (aka Tahlequah) for two hours at sunset.
you carry it anyway. you carry
once more, our babe found by
the sea. we open, sister, we open
the grave of moonlight’s reflection
too, shall be gone in the morning
but here you’ll be, and we always
with you. we, with you and you
a gift to the disappearing moon
a gift to the disappearing we
you carry it anyway, you carry
although we may not see
you carry it anyway, you carry
and we, always with you
and we, always with you
day four
and we, always with you
Tahlequah. your name rolls
off my tongue familiar, round
vowels & eloquent consonants, bit
from a knash, the gash a witness.
look what they have done to my
memory, the land of our bodies
the world mourns with you
has me reeling, endangered
has me reeling and worried
and we see, Tahlequah, the last few
of the black fish, not leaping now
in a cage for our delight but diving
to hold yours up to the light
day five
to hold yours up to the light
its quality uncertain, who would
see little one glisten in black,
threaten to return. dive—
your back a black sight. red flesh
refusing water, shrinking
though your hunger cannot
oh, empty belly and womb
make room for every mouth
aching to compose this song
we move this sea, make the waters
cold and rich. we move this sea
its sound deep blue. sing, mother you
the one. make us free in your wake
***
Photograph of Bettina Judd by Bettina Judd.
