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Rational Jew, observer of the times, I've been here before, amused, abused by changing gods. I admired my whale. I tracked her migratory yearnings fifty years, taping, recording legendary artistry. She sang a song lasting fifteen minutes long of exquisite grace, haunting vocalise, and when she raised her voice to click and moan, the earth stood still. Oceans turned to glass. Sometimes I'd lie like a stone, falling through space. It was said when her spirits passed away we'd feast on wine and noble delicacies. 
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Messiah would come and hold us in his arms, at the very least teach us how to die. Now the old queen rots in the sea, revealing layers of commonplace death, a barebones carcass, a messy identity. The nosy sharks disdain her meat, her flabby breast. They disappear. Drunk, disorderly, cruising for a fight, I recreate the whale's last song, and I let it play all through my winter watch, bitter work,  |
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