Beluga at Mystic Aquarium
You hang like a stalactite
in the blue, a carved bone,
walrus tusk. Creature of cold,
ethereal, angelic, with the white
curves of a Renaissance maid.
Goddess, I envy your confidence
as you sway towards the glass.
Pale hips, hints of knee joints
sunk into your tail, blubber
in all the right places. No wonder
sailors wrote songs about sirens.
Your milky dome wobbles with the tilt
of your head as you ponder our echoes,
our symphonies. Mercurial, messenger
from a deeper realm, silent as an iceberg,
heavy with cow-like docility. It is mirrored
wonder when your beaked lips form
a gentle bubble in greeting, peering
at us like a child in front of
a television screen.
Bex Hainsworth currently teaches in Leicester. She won the Collection HQ Prize as part of the East Riding Festival of Words and her poetry has been published following commendations in the Welsh Poetry, Ware Poets, Beaver Trust, and AUB Poetry competitions.