Okean Means Endless

“It took the herd six hours,”

the Blue Planet voiceover explains,

orcas pushing a blue whale calf

under. Keet, our son points

at the screen, naming them all

one whale, from the greek kētos,

water-monster, “The seas bathed

in calf’s blood.” More, our son

asks, More okean, watches the red

beneath them spreading, More ocean.

“Killer whales,” the voice reminds,

the blue calf’s heart bigger

than all three of ours, its blood could fill

our son’s bathtub for weeks. The orcas

only eat the head, let the rest sink

to the ocean floor, but no, the voice

points out how body born six thousand pounds

lands on the skeleton of a full grown blue,

“Nothing gets wasted in the water.”

Look, our son staring, Look,

learning how the deep devours,

blubber separates from bone,

even bone won’t survive long,

eaten by water worms and salt.

Spicy, our son calls any intense

flavor, tears in his mouth, but no,

not over this, the calf’s

blood or its bones, the orcas

swimming through reddened salt,

but over desire, he wants

what he cannot have

or doesn’t want what he is

given, a calf’s heart

in the teeth of a hungrier mammal,

because what else is worth

that much salt?