Whales and Red Wailing
Whales never shut their staring eyes but when
They sleep. The shutting of the eye for whales
Is hard. If they could use a fountain pen,
They would not want to write the wounding tales
Of what they see in decades underneath
The waves and in the decades that they glide
Past slaughter, slaughter everywhere, and teeth,
And blood, and claw-like mouths that rip the hide
Of creatures in the depths of life. Enough,
Enough is what their distant singing might
Imply. But surely nothing can rebuff
The horrors they endure in leagues of sight.
And who knows what they see inside their souls
When they are dreaming— but more bloody holes?
~ Phillip Whidden