It seems each week a whale film’s to be released a cetacean serendipitously beaches.
Take for instance 1986′s Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home when that November a teenage Sperm surfaced upon a sandbar off the coast of Bonavista, and croaked grosser than the Klingon who brought a chuHwl’ to the bat’leth match. Was it telepathic Spock who whisked her from the waves?
Or consider ’93, the summer Free Willy filled seats and a team of Belugas rode in the Bay of Fundy for bust like some clan of Kamikaze bikers into rivals’ territory. Was there among us, the countless nine-year olds belting out Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There” a siren?
If not for this poem it would not be remembered 2012 saw forty Pilots beach along New Zealand and the very same weekend some Drew Barrymore flick tank. Would I have wrote the poem if not for Big Miracle?
Is this a trap I’ve set for you? I’m sure there’s nothing you can do. As 2013’s Black Fish doused the Sea World dream with cold water another damn Pilot somehow croaked of thirst in the Everglades.
An earlier version of this poem appeared at Poetry and the News.