The Intercollegiate Literary Magazine

Whale Fall

A pause, pregnant, 

at last conceives a newborn carcass.

The carcass may first float at the surface, but lungs 

deflate. When all is said and spent, 

the moment slips beneath 

the waves, in time tumbling 

through the patterns of deep sleep. 

The carcass is trapped

 between the sheets of the seabed, 

tangled in lost decades.

Maybe our last moment is 

petrified by the pitch,

 a stone swan song.

Slipping between the ribs of the occasion,

An assemblage remains to carve minutely 

through time, cutting its teeth on those lost decades.

It is most common to see the carcass at night,

Sunken in more recent years

and holding its breath.