Some poems

Earl
by Louis Jenkins [x]

In Sitka, because they are fond of them,
People have named the seals. Every seal
is named Earl because they are killed one
after another by the orca, the killer
whale; seal bodies tossed left and right
into the air. “At least he didn’t get
Earl,” someone says. And sure enough,
after a time, that same friendly,
bewhiskered face bobs to the surface.
It’s Earl again. Well, how else are you
to live except by denial, by some
palatable fiction, some little song to
sing while the inevitable, the black and
white blindsiding fact, comes hurtling
toward you out of the deep?

...

Lies About Sea Creatures
by Ada Limón [x]

I lied about the whales. Fantastical blue
water-dwellers, big, slow moaners of the coastal.
I never saw them. Not once that whole frozen year.
Sure, I saw the raw white gannets hit the waves
so hard it could have been a showy blow hole.
But I knew it wasn’t. Sometimes, you just want
something so hard, you have to lie about it,
so you can hold it in your mouth for a minute,
how real hunger has a real taste. Someone once
told me, gannets, those voracious sea birds
of the North Atlantic chill, go blind from the height
and speed of their dives. But that, too, is a lie.
Gannets never go blind and they certainly never die.

...

Scientific Method
by James Tadd Adcox [x]

Picture the ocean. No.
Picture the entire thing,
all at once.
You are not doing it.
It’s okay.
One day something terrible will happen,
and I will not be prepared.