I needed cheering up with the present headlines. This poem shows that I’m not alone in trying to make sense of a crazy world.
by Louis Jenkins
In Sitka, because they are fond of them, people have
named the sea lions. Every sea lion is named Earl because
they are killed one after another by the orca, the killer
whale; sea lion bodies tossed left and right into the air.
“At least he didn’t get Earl,” someone says. And sure
enough, after a time, that same friendly, bewhiskered face
bobs to the surface. It’s Earl again. Well, how else are
you to live except by denial, by some palatable fiction,
some little song to sing while the inevitable, the black
and white blindsiding fact, comes hurtling toward you
out of the deep?
“Earl” by Louis Jenkins from Where Your House Is Now: New and Selected Poems. Nodin Press © 2019.