Okean Means Endless Poem by julia kolchinsky dasbach

"It took the herd six hours,"
the Blue Planet voiceover explains,
orcas pushing a blue whale calf
under. Keet, our son points
at the screen, naming them all
one whale, from the greek kētos,
water-monster, "The seas bathed
in calf's blood." More, our son
asks, More okean, watches the red
beneath them spreading, More ocean.
"Killer whales," the voice reminds,
the blue calf's heart bigger
than all three of ours, its blood could fill
our son's bathtub for weeks. The orcas
only eat the head, let the rest sink
to the ocean floor, but no, the voice
points out how body born six thousand pounds
lands on the skeleton of a full grown blue,
"Nothing gets wasted in the water."
Look, our son staring, Look,
learning how the deep devours,
blubber separates from bone,
even bone won't survive long,
eaten by water worms and salt.
Spicy, our son calls any intense
flavor, tears in his mouth, but no,
not over this, the calf's
blood or its bones, the orcas
swimming through reddened salt,
but over desire, he wants
what he cannot have
or doesn't want what he is
given, a calf's heart
in the teeth of a hungrier mammal,
because what else is worth
that much salt?