TSM 182

Follow my nose, eh?
As if I were a narwhal whose tusk – 
my helix of sharp sorrows –
was a compass pointing 
true north.

Did you say you heard me clicking 
and singing
late into the polar night,
our saga of when mermaids 
rode whales to war?

Or just my silliness again,
getting on in years.
We sit together at the table
and talk about the ice floes.
Will we will remember the way?

Or will I make a wrong turn,
end up at the mall again –
at Sleepy's laid out on the white expanse
of king-sized mattresses,
holding hands in our parkas.

While they call the children 
to come get us,
I wrap a sheet around me –
a body ready to tip 
into the sea.

Returned to the water –
the two of us whale and seal.
I test my tusk if its point is true,
and you
riding the surf in joy.

The Sunday Muse

20 thoughts on “TSM 182

  1. Arrrr, caught me a narwhal one time, flipped itself over right there on th’ deck and stabbed poor Angus McGee straight through the heart it did. Never knew old Angus had a heart til then hehehe ha cough hack wheeze gasp oh dear. Angus had a wooden leg, he did, lost the reg’lar one to a fiddler crab in a poker game.

    I love that ending.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Caught up in the story of mermaids and narwhals; love the way it returns in the ending, despite the mall sections throwing me back onshore, breathless and sad.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Definitely a very creative original and super cool response to the prompt. I see the absurdity, and also the great fun of childhood, as well as a little wild sea shanty thrown in, perhaps a sheet that covers something a bit darker as well, thrown to the depths where the whales sing below the killing ice. But they do still sing, don’t they.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love this, thanks so much. Yes, they still do sing.

      Subtle that you phrased it “the killing ice.” When I was researching Narwhals for the poem, I read about how most of them die by being stuck under the ice and suffocate. The killing ice indeed. And made me think of the seal hunt too.


  4. “Throw them back if too small or too long,” name of the game. Fine screwy read, I enjoyed.
    “… will I make a wrong turn, end up …” is in my book, I did that yesterday, ended up in the mall. I followed my rule, keep on driving until I recognize some thing or place that I know, then I’m not lost anymore. Yesterday it was recognizing the road to Trader Joe’s, I turned on to it and my delay ride wasn’t more than five minutes.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Mesmerizing, Q. It feels like these two have become rebels and/or around the bend of dementia and are having a grand time of it either way. I love this part:

    “Will we will remember the way?

    Or will I make a wrong turn,
    end up at the mall again –
    at Sleepy’s laid out on the white expanse
    of king-sized mattresses,
    holding hands in our parkas.”

    Liked by 1 person

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