Whale Watch Poem by Terese Svoboda

Whale Watch



Big wheelers circle in the sand
to cut a perfect something
between flotsam and carwreck.

The kids see only the size of the tires,
none look at the whales over their shoulders.

We're climbing to where spouts evaporate
into sky, we're clawing up lava-spilt sides
like the dog to see.

Below is all
perfect circles in the sand,
and the discolored blue from mammals working.

The ocean's boundless, we think,
and the kids
can't even throw rocks far enough
to hit us.
But no.

The dog barks at the whales
instead of them, then he barks even harder—
at Jonah inside the whale
drawing Pinocchio

on undigested sand dollars,
what can only be imagined.

Even here you have to turn your head
to see all of one, you have to step back and not fall.

At last the teenagers get out of the trucks
to puke.
The kids elbow us to look.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success