My sister asks me if narwhals are real. Yes,
I tell her, they are the unicorns of the sea.
The horn is actually a tusk, an inside-out
tooth. Ten million nerve endings sensing
the environment. At the pumpkin patch,
I choose the ones with the most tendrils.
Decorative as they are, these modified stems
anchor the squash body to the earth, protect
from harsh wind. More tendrils is perhaps
a sign of more hardship. When we found
the louse on her head we knew there would be more.
Specialized egg sacs harden cuffs around hair
strands, are resistant to water and chemicals.
The ingenuity of obligate parasites gravels me.
Did you know a group of narwhals is called a blessing?
Do you roast and eat the pumpkin seeds after carving?
We light a candle in the belly of our masterpieces,
grateful that our scalps are finally vacant. Relieved,
I learn that the tusk is in fact not used as a weapon.
Narwhal sparring, an act of collective cleaning.
Jessica Gigot is a poet and farmer. Her second book of poems, Feeding Hour (Wandering Aengus), was a finalist for the 2021 Washington State Book Award. Her memoir, A Little Bit of Land (Oregon State), was published in 2022. www.jessicagigot.com
Photo obtained from Unsplash+.
