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TheDancingWhale
Watercolor and pastel

in wood knot
in rainfall
in streetlight.
Calmly,
stoically,
her ancient eye
bores into mine.
I dance
upon what could be
boards,
what could be
a plain,
uninteresting dock.
I dance
upon what
is an ancient
being, a
creature of
deep wisdom.
I dance
upon her slick,
rainwashed, grooved
body.
I dance upon
the whale.

She is far
from human
yet as complicated
as the knotted
seaweed of
her kingdom.
I danced
on her
yet she danced
with me—
the squelch
squelch of
my sneakers
and the groans
of her song,
our music.

She glittered
in the streetlamp
like gold,
the curse of
man.

Whales don’t smile.

She is not
without emotion;
her eye tells
emotion in
its own
subtle ways.

I felt the deep drum of her heart.

The thud
as I landed
that reverberated
through her
rib cage and
echoed in her
body and
the sea-sky beyond
pumped
blood through her
vessels.

A whale’s heart can beat twice every minute.

Every second her
blood was building,
beating.

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