The Sleek Skin of the Leviathan

A Dutch Frigate at Full-Sail

Scrunched into the pew between

Emiel and Father, Jacob

had little to occupy him during the sermon 

but to blankly contemplate the backs of wigs and bonnets  

in the foremost pews

now and again

attempting to grasp the word-laden sermon

but finding his mind skipping and wandering away 

over the people and

up the bare chalk-white walls, round to the wigs and bonnets

               and back again to Uncle Emiel

The Leviathan was a monster that 

could pull down a ship

Uncle had said

The church was chilly and he

was glad of the human warmth of the two men 

and of his coat

the pockets quilted, pillow-like and soft

Was there a name for the special smell from the old prayer books?

                            What would wearing a wig atop his own head be like?

Would there be hot stamppot for lunch? 

                                    How long would Uncle stay?

The muttering, quiet at first

began to crawl and scratch into the world

the words unable to be discerned but like

the hissing of steam from a 

boiling kettle or 

like the buzzing of bees in a summer orchard  

when the rotting fruit

fell and lay broken open, wet

on the ground

The Leviathan must be pulled 

and dried 

to render it harmless

             Uncle had said

mumble mumble

mutter

mumble mumble mutter

Father began his mumble mumble mutter and

                                Jacob's attention unlatched itself and swung away

but was suddenly 

                 reeled back 

by the pressing,

the slight pressing of 

Emiel leaning

               into his side

Jacob looked up into his uncle's face

and saw that was not himself who was the object of attention

but Father

Emiel was listening intently

to the hum and murmur of the 

mumble mumble mutter

mutter mumble mutter

Jacob waited and when Emiel raised his eyes to stare at Father

Jacob followed suit 

                                  moving his eyes in the same direction

                                  following invisible lines

                                  that only his Uncle could discern

                                  tracing behind as Emiel surveyed, calculated 

                                  and recalibrated the angle of Father's gaze 

                                   until both of their eyes alighted 

                                   on the back of 

                                   one 

                                   particular 

                                   merchant 

Jacob peered up to his uncle for an explanation

but recieved none 

Emiel only straightened himself

refocusing his attention on the complicated, droning words

echoing down from the pulpit

              Jacob waited for a sign

but Uncle Emiel gave none

             and so he wandered back to his own thoughts

                    The Leviathan was real but it could be rendered harmless

                                      if pulled from the water

                                      and dried on the creaking planks

                                     of a Dutch frigate 

                                                      at full-sail