Cleave

There was a sneeze: the beginning of a calving.

I could tell by the way the glaciers

lost face over and over again

which I watched without binoculars

from an undulating vessel.

Later, surrounded by frolicking

humpback whales, I could only heave.

I believe this would have been the case

even with pills or ginger.  You see,

something between us was ailing

and the sea knew it.  The puffins knew it.

The man in the Harley jacket

who sat motionless on the 14-hour

ferry ride from Ketchikan

like a zen master—he knew it.

On shore, the lumberjacks depressed us.

A mosquito bit me twice, in the bath.

At night, the stars were jaundiced

and I dreamt of weeping salmon

on their way to spawn and die.

Ah, melodrama.  Things were not quite

so dire for us, yet.