Going through the notes I took during student presentations, I realized I have the rough beginnings of a poem on the weird and wonderful variety of sharks in the ocean.
So often I find these words together:
vulnerable, beautiful, strange.
Sometimes ugly is lucky.
The translucent goblin hates the sun.
Too deep for fishermen,
his nose is a flattened sword
to study currents.
When pulled into the upper world,
the Shortfin mako rebels
& aborts her eggs
Other things we know:
Nurses travel long distances for love.
Porbeagles play seaweed games.
Megalodon’s jaws were a tunnel, a gateway
crushing whale skulls like grapes.
The angel (also called the sand devil)
lies motionless on the ocean floor
waiting for a hapless mollusk,
and captured in the swirling, indiscriminate sweep
of the fisherman’s trawl.
Who has seen the flickering southern lantern?
Been ambushed by a shaggy-bearded woebegong?
The poisonous flesh
of the slow, drowsy Greenland shark
will make you drunk.
Its teeth are dense, yellowed icicles.
It sneaks up on sleeping seals,
while the twirling, breaching
spinner shark can only be called
an ecstatic hunter.