The Hopeful Pacific Bluefin Tuna: A Poem

courtesy fisherynation.com

I am one of eight species,

the incredible edible Pacific Bluefin Tuna.

I am sleek, smooth and a speedy swimmer.

My diet is voracious

for which

I will travel the Pacific, Atlantic, Indians Oceans and the Gulf of Mexico.

While most fish are

content

to nibble

on coral reefs

or prey on amoeba,

I devour my prey to support my journey

and warm blood.

Here and then

Not.

Despite my swift sureness, endurance and capacity to adapt to conditions to my favor,

I.

Am.

Being.

Hunted.

To.

E x t i n c t i o n.

Not by sharks, whales or squid — my natural enemies,

but

by

humans.

They bait me with delicacies.

Then once I’m hooked, my belly bleeds

I am frozen.

Sold on the market.

To the highest bidder.

I am the incredible edible Pacific Bluefin Tuna.

But my stock is plummeting, both juveniles and ancestors alike.

For humans

have an insatiable,

unquenchable desire for my

blood-red, melt-in-your-mouth flesh.

My beautiful torpedo-like body is cut on a band saw,

portioned,

Then sliced thin.

Or chopped fine.

Only to land

on a cold platter

Served with wasabi, pickled ginger, rice, and soy.

I sate appetites.

Feed greedy humans.

Who follow silly cultural rites.

If left unchecked, I will vanish from the oceans; from this Blue Planet I call home.

After.

I.

Am.

Eventually.

G o n e.

Maybe, just maybe humans will notice.

My value. My place.

I know the tides can change in my favor, though.

I remain

h o p e f u l,

h o p e f u l.

About humans.

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