Bri Griffith

for Andy, who I hope one day is swallowed by a whale

after Rachel McKibbens

The sperm whale’s mouth is a paper shredder—-
your wet suit won’t save you.

& even if you survive going down, survive
the teeth like chef’s knives in the mouth,

hydrochloric acid will slurp your skin & steal
your vision. You’ll slither from one stomach

to the next until your body’s just a stream
of light, bones bright next to neon flying squid,

bones no one will look for. I’d love to feed you
to a whale, I’d love to hold you

like bait in my hand, I’d love to look you in the eye
& ask: How’s it feel to be the one looking up,

begging? I’d love to release you & everything
you’ve ever said to me, in our kitchen,

the time I bit the countertop & felt bits
of my teeth sneak down my throat.

I’d wave goodbye to you like a royal, I’d wear
my biggest hat & watch you fall & wear

your panic like a fur coat. I’d leave the scene,
& if anyone ever asked for the truth, 

I’d remember what you taught me:
Don’t say a damn thing.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Bri Griffith earned her MFA in poetry from Florida International University in 2021. Her work has appeared Columbia Poetry Review, Court Green, Small Orange and elsewhere. She was a Best New Poets nominee in 2021. Griffith is a writing instructor and professional tutor at Community College of Allegheny County; she lives and writes in Pittsburgh, PA.