For Tranströmer
by Norman Dubie

copyright © 2015 by Norman Dubie

In the cold heavy rain, through
its poor lens,
a woman
who might be a man
writes with a can of blue paint
large numbers
on the sides of beached whales –

even on the small one who is still
living, heaving
there next to its darkening mother
where the very air is a turnstile …

I’m certain this woman is moved
as anyone would be –
her disciplines,

a warranted gift to us,
to business, to government,
and our military,

and still she exhibits care and patience
this further
talent for counting,

counting …