In the Cannery the Porpoise Soul

In the cannery the porpoise soul & the shadow fins of spirit boats lie awake the hundred hooks & flying reels one harpoon & the silver fleshing in the nets the mayor is waiting/counting scales dreaming new quotas & tuna coasts (under the table blood & payrolls swim to the shores on a crucifix of oil) in the cannery the porpoise soul steals a dagger for the engines throat tuna fins etch an X on the green stone of the ships floor there are documents with worker sweat files & rolled sleeve salt a spear of sails & anchor years (lost) inside the shoulders & against the ropes (somehow) a policy gunned the waves back before the porpoise sea was born