Whales; pulchritudinous

beasts that ride the currents of the open ocean, aloof.

They have not always been a specimen

of awe. Fifty-six million years ago

they traveled Earth on four legs. Sinonyx

had no name before the age of man;

it was described only

by its hunched back,

mottled fur, and appetite for flesh.

By waves it romps in the sand, cackling

like its predecessors. Paws find water,

salty brine that would transmute fangs

to waning straw.

From itself to “cetus”;

monsters of the sea, forming

long and spear-like to pierce the riptide.

Dips and bobs, straying from the shore as it morphs.

Saurus” when

it bares its needle bone teeth.

Now the whale, the great beast;

a far cry from the fry

it was centuries ago. If I don’t push you

how will you evolve?

Change comes through struggle, the experience of pain.

You will be a new specimen, beauty

striding on four scraggly legs. Once you’ve had enough,

you will shape, bite, swim your way back

and master your domain.