, , , , , ,

a darkness and a gleam,
and the blurred reflections of the willows on the opposite bank
received it.

– Amy Lowell, The Pike

Open your
mouth. Gape.
In it I put
cachalot, big
head, sacred
fish, though
cachalot is
moving streaks
of iridescence
trance, drifting
oar won from
the wave.
Swallow. Kiss
the curve of
my spotty
spine my fins
broad, rose,
black, silver.
Come hold
the sun in
your jaw, glow.


Cachalot is simply the French term for sperm whale.