Against the sail masts offbeat taps onto each other,
bay bells mixing in with tinny harbor chimes,
distant buoys throwing their soft moans to the wind,
all of them singing to the moon in a whale-like croon
that bellows love songs from the sea bed floor,
I am swept back to my first whale sighting,
the young humpback’s notes rippling out
before it hit the headland, its shroud of sound lost to sea.
Rocked by waves, stranded beneath the blue moon
at Point Bonita, everything turned a deadly quiet
where high winds once rammed ships cliff side,
dumping potatoes, lumber, cotton, mail, and gold, all of it
sunk into the deep, unlike the ballooning beached corpse
in descending light, tonight its heft of ghost at my side,
pressing hard into me the tremendous weight of sea.
About the Author: Andrena Zawinski lives in Alameda and teaches creative writing and composition at Laney College in Oakland. Her full collection of poetry, Something About, from Blue Light Press in San Francisco, is a PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award recipient. Her work has been widely anthologized and appears extensively online and in print.
Artwork: Lorenzo Tianero