i could fold this paper
with delicate precision
creating curves from stiff straight edges
prompting you to ponder
how the paper could possibly be untorn?
and then you'd realise
you're holding a whale
yet i choose not to crease the paper
but to decorate it with memory
how a dark shape surfaced
huge and alive and directly under the boat
a warm-blooded secret amidst the waves' shadows
gentle despite the demanding deep
the whale scended so close to our stern
it plunged immediately to avoid collision
no dramatic plume of moist breath rent the air
just a circle of water calmed by a careful flute
transfixed i reach over the rudder
and stroked the smooth surface
my fingers rippled a fluid window
through which you and i now peer
distracted by our own reflections
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