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The Occasional Whale
\nby
\nRadiance Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
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Some say there\u2019s sound coming from black holes.
\nA kind of ancient groaning that\u2019s nearly a song.
\nMaybe there\u2019s an old woman in there singing to a black dog?
\nMaybe something being formed already has a voice<\/p>\n
and is already praising? Maybe it\u2019s a school of seeds
\nbreaking new ground, or a baker kneading bread (someone
\nhas to make the communion wafers that turn into Christ)? Maybe
\nthey\u2019re laying down train tracks, or sculpting dragons that turn<\/p>\n
into fish? Maybe they\u2019re discussing new places to hide light?
\nI don\u2019t believe they make shadows. We do that. Maybe they\u2019re busy
\nplacing bullfrog tadpoles on rocks near the edges of ponds, and making
\nmanta rays leaping from a midnight blue sea, or the occasional whale<\/p>\n
that also sings? Whatever the case may be, I should really be composing
\nan ode to the chair that holds me every morning when I write, or to my pen.
\nSo many nearer things churn in my dark, almost singing mind,
\nand black ink is already spreading over white, dreamy waves.<\/p>\n
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