On Friday, June 19, a cruise ship arrived at the dock in Seward, Alaska, with a dead 61-foot, adult female fin whale on top of the ship’s bulbous bow. A local company towed the whale to a nearby beach for a necropsy (animal autopsy). — National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

According to the autopsy I was pregnant,
freshly dead, in good nutritional condition, with plenty
of blubber and muscle.

Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the jaw,
spine, and ribs. The ship slid
onto the rocky shore, not knowing

my limp body was speared to the sharp bow.
I must have been pushed so far away
from my pod.

They say plans are underway for my carcass—
carcass not body—to be towed out to sea
where I am expected to sink like a stone

and nourish a wide variety of deep sea life.
I suppose it’s a solace for you to imagine me
serving a greater purpose in death,

but hear this—write this in the report—
every time your skin touches salt water
may you think of me,

not peaceful in death as I was in life,
but raging in my watery grave.
I swear with all my 61 feet

that I will follow you. All your life,
when a rib catches,
when your jaw suddenly throbs for no reason,

when a chill runs up your aching spine,
may you recall exactly what broke mine.