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Whaler
Harpoon raised,
the chaser boat in full flight.
Coiled rope, explosive head,
cold steel reflects
the fading light.
Oil spill blood
surrounds the ship,
a flag aloft with Japanese crest.
Shouts of glee, victory sweet,
the death roll,
this pathetic conquest.
Flencers cut like guillotines,
their knives always the sharpest.
Flesh and bone, it’s all the same
to these murderers,
these licensed rapists.
Great barnacled
mammals of the deep,
at the mercy of the harpooner.
Their kill lies on the plate
of some old world
foreign consumer.
One day children
will ask what’s a whale,
what happened to the species?
And why is the only thing
left of their home now
graveyards of the seas?
Written: circa 1994
———
Wrote this many moons ago
but sadly the hunt still goes
on in the name of science.
Copyright ©
Craig Bowden
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