in the ice canyon

where we berth

whalers, oilers once thrived

drunk at the font of enterprise

harvesting fine cetacean fat

supping from the glacial slabs

till fire or foe sank their bones

to frigid stony graveyard

 

humans being one of a few

species that outlive their breeding years

another being whales

larry wonders if

this be to permit elders

transmit their wise to young

 

the tanker rearing

only bow above water

rutting, rotting rusting body

an undergirdle

for our craft

tells a seerer tale

 

the tern sky-dives for krill

the harpoon for the kill

the skua pries

the limpet dry

greed repeats

nor do we

stop our eyes

from our feast