I wish peace on the aquatic primate
whose phalanges are quite buried in meat
whose well-lobed brain hasn’t any disdain
for what his blubber blocks: the cold or heat.
No further speech from his throat will emerge
like a flag that has forever been furled
but he’ll surmise with intelligent eyes
familiar shapes in the submarine world.
April 18, 2025. Written for National Poetry Writing Month
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