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
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qbit 
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.
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Wahaha!
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I especially love that narwhal tusk – “my helix of sharp sorrows.”
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Love your absolutely brilliant satire of life and the golden years. Word craft and and humor at it’s finest!!! You never disappoint Qbit!!
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Thank you thank you thank you!
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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.
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Thank you!
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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.
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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.
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I love the connections flowing through this.
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Mermaids riding whales. A new image for me.
Nice poem qbit
Happy to dropped by to read mine
Much💜love
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“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.
..
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Exactly!
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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.”
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Ah, cool. Glad you liked that!
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🙂
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that first stanza just grabs and never lets go ~
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Thank you!
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Engrossed at the very beginning of this, q. Love your ending!
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Beautifully crafted, so many lines to love. We live, grow old if we’re lucky (?) and wrapped with the grave.
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