by Matthew King
So now, I tell my cat, we talk with whales.
He yawns in pointed answer: it’s beneath
his dignity to suffer such tall tales.
His rough tongue flashes out across his teeth.
I ask him, well, should we use cats instead
to study alien communication?
Look, he says, you say what’s in my head
without the need for my participation.
You’re doing it right now! I haven’t said
a word, it’s all you, even this frustration!
Good luck, whales and Martians! Me, I’m fed
up with one-sided human conversation.
Oh, I tease him, don’t trust my translation?
Wait until you hear me speak cetacean.
He yawns in pointed answer: it’s beneath
his dignity to suffer such tall tales.
His rough tongue flashes out across his teeth.
I ask him, well, should we use cats instead
to study alien communication?
Look, he says, you say what’s in my head
without the need for my participation.
You’re doing it right now! I haven’t said
a word, it’s all you, even this frustration!
Good luck, whales and Martians! Me, I’m fed
up with one-sided human conversation.
Oh, I tease him, don’t trust my translation?
Wait until you hear me speak cetacean.
Author's note: Some scientists believe they have successfully conducted a conversation with a humpback whale, and that this is good practice for communicating with aliens. My cat is skeptical.
Matthew King used to teach philosophy at York University in Toronto, Canada; he now lives in what Al Purdy called "the country north of Belleville" where he tries to grow things, counts birds, takes pictures of flowers with bugs on them, and walks a rope bridge between the neighbouring mountaintops of philosophy and poetry. His photos and links to his poems can be found at birdsandbeesandblooms.com.