by Lisa C. Taylor

When the whale dominates
the frame,
everything that isn’t whale
becomes insignificant.

A whale
is a kind of hope,

not a platitude,
surfacing in white caps
concealing migrating tuna or salmon
on their journey
to warmer waters.

The naturalist lifts binoculars
so a child can peek
at the kind of mass
that hints at relativity
while a tuna
follows a conscripted path
of truth or ritual.

Salmon boats
don’t claim justice for their catch
but food is its own reward.

yet any of us can be felled
by microscopic forces,

the opposite of whale.


Lisa C. Taylor has two collections of poetry, two chapbooks, and two collections of short fiction. Her honors include the Hugo House New Works Award and Pushcart nominations in fiction and poetry. www.lisactaylor.com

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