A Poem About A Little Mermaid
The Arctic Harp
seal leaves the ocean for the surface of the Arctic
ice
to have her pup--the birth itself
a bloody mess. The sight
and scent of bloody
membranes, bloody cords and
matted fur
entices and excites
the migratory paparazzi. Soon, the fishermen
will split the skulls of newborn pups.
Click, whirr,
click, whirr,
click, whirr.
The Arctic Harp
seal barks a bit and kind of
flops around the fishermen--
the pup is skinned. Bloody carcass,
flopping, barking seal (click,
whirr, click whirr), Anime eyes. Don't
worry, don't worry:
there are too many Harp seals, anyway, too few monkfish.
Next year,
she will get
knocked up all over again, move
to Alaska, die
in childbirth.
JDP 98/08
Copyright John D Porter © 1998
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