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17th May, 2024

Friday Poem – ‘How Animals Grieve’ by Kathryn Bevis

Photo of an Orca poking its head above the waves against an orange sunset

This week’s Friday Poem is ‘How Animals Grieve’ by Kathryn Bevis from her collection The Butterfly House.

How Animals Grieve
We Google it. Laid on our backs in bed
together, cursed by our tired, three-pound brains,
we search our phones’ blue light for wisdom, become
voyeurs of YouTube clips on other creatures’ pain.
For seventeen days, a mourning orca
attends her daughter’s corpse. She sinks
and hauls the weight of her as if to fetch
the breath back, have her suckle once again.
A chimp will carry her lifeless son for months.
She lets the troop draw close to hold her, hear her
screech. They watch her comb the straw from listless
fur and floss with grass between his teeth.
Elephants know to sniff beloved bones.
They seek to raise the fallen, rock their own
bulk back and forth. Each one waits its turn
to stroke and roll the skull, slow blow
through its trunk, take time to bury its dead.
Like us, giraffes and housecats, dingoes, horses,
dogs forget to forage, forgo sex and sleep. Like us,
at burial mounds, they pace and yowl and keen.
So why should it surprise us, Ollie, — us
who matter most to one another, us whose marriage
is as deep as marrow — why is this loss
unthinkable: me without you, you without me?