Corpse Whale

She Sang to Me Once at a Place for Hunting Owls: Utkiavik

81 She Sang to Me Once at a Place for Hunting Owls Utkiavik I wade through the nesting ground, fitted like a fingerprint. You say it’s a place of speckled day owls with golden eyes. You and I traveling together, following the caribou at the entrance of Quunquq River, we see caves in old sod houses which belonged to reindeer herders. Our dogs start barking, whining. We follow the whale-rib steps up to the ridge, leave tobacco. We keep hiking up the mountains where there live many Dall sheep, we set camp. I dream of a snow bird with pearlescent plumes, a horntail, and a spiked crown. She brought me a lens to use in the echo chamber. When we come upon Okpikrauq River, I hear her song vibrate off the cliffs: People have as their names, their rivers, their rivers. ...