Whaling

Rocking and twirling and swirling are the tides,

pushing and shoving at the mariner’s gibes.

They make haste to topple the impudent vessel

that stabs at their flank with sharp-pointed metals.

Of sea-life and sea-ice they strive to protect,

but mariner and crew stand sturdy on deck.

Raging and thrashing and pounding the mast,

the waves fight back, seamen they harass.

Harpoons and spears puncture their flesh,

red bleeds in the water, indicating success.

From the ocean’s grasp the men tug and pull

a bowhead whale whose hourglass once stood full.