The world ends like the whale falls
to the ocean floor: slowly, unencumbered
by life, supported by water, sinking
into the strata of scavengers
until hunger and fear turns everyone
to hagfish and sharks, teeth and odors,
opportunity and opportuned.
In the fin-frenzy, there is no future.
The stomach rules all.
But once the blubber is gone
the bones are so white
they dazzle even the sunlight
silting the eggs of mackerel.
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