and it is with large fins that we hug the world
and with great joy that we are fit to praise our god1
and the chorus of calves burst into rapture
at the sound of this last line, as if Martin Luther King
were looking down on them, imbuing the scene with a
somehow weightier stroke; each phrase brushed onto
each calf as if they were meant to feel this way.
and2 it was around then that
a great hunger rose up inside me
to learn the Odyssean ways of the whales,
– each now pulsing ultraviolet
brambled with lightning –
as they melted from song to song;
an equator of violaceae
halo’d round a heart.
it would not be long before I wished fins from out my shoulders
gained the taste for krill
and prayed for a metamorphosis3 that made spout my fontanelle
1 Presumably krill, or the monarch of the krill – that much I hadn’t yet discovered.
2 it was around then that ceremonial buckets of krill were passed around the circle
3 Although living absolutely as a whale during the course of the project would considerably speed up the process of discovery, I would, perhaps, miss opposable thumbs were I a whale – so consider this image a ‘metaphormorphosis’ of sorts.