Human mothers have been known
to throw their children to the ocean.
Before dawn, dawn
seems impossible, the sky
a formless void. From a bridge, a cry
hits the water, disappears, one of many stars
blinking out. The moon forgets
to direct us. Dozens of hulking bodies
at rest. It happens every summer,
but no one knows why. The whales
are so like us in their langauge and how
they feed their young. Birthed
alive. The islanders rush
to usher them back to sea.