In the tank, blue, lit like a forest at dawn
was the white apparition
arcing from depth into light
then back into shadow.
 
His mate had died in captivity,
causing stir on local news
at the cruelty of caging such a large,
intelligent creature as the beluga
in a glass prison.
 
Where two had roamed for years
he now swam alone.
Like a bleached leaf
he swirled in the blue vial,
his skin smooth and white like fascia,
the fissure of his blowhole
like broken marble on a torso of Apollo.
 
On his head glistened scars from the Arctic.
His eyes were black and depthless
as a child's drawing of night.
Drawn taut over his jaw,
his lips made a clownish grin.
 
My daughter watched
the great creature beyond the glass.
She saw him rise and sink,
turn away then come back.
That he could not leave
she understood
 
and wanting to leave,
she reached for my hand, and I
swam towards her apparition
beyond the glass
from depth into light.