Transients by Vivian Faith Prescott

This prose poem is from my digital poetry collection "Slick" published at White Knuckle Press.


At the window in the bar overlooking the bay, stretch your neck back to Bligh Reef where you worked spring of '89. See killer whales: sleek black canoes, cruising through water. Twenty five or more rounded the point like a whale highway and last in line, a towering dorsal fin like huge sail on a boat. Now, walk along petroglyph beach, see only shadows. In grooved rock, trace a killer whale fin with your finger. Remember, his fin collapsing, lesions on his skin. Pack for the next job: your hazmat certificate, your rubber boots. Carry his story to the Gulf.


Tele said…
Damn, damn, damn. I was loving the sleek black canoes and the whale highway, so you completely got me in the gut with the lesions. I can't imagine the grief and rage of that time... All of the times...

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