In the east
deep green once signified longevity
Unfurling before me a paper banner says
otherwise, says nothing lasts
• • •
After having moved aside the self
placing it delicately onto the lowest shelf
one desires to listen to the universe
to ascend the labradorite mountain
crevices and a history of avalanches
notwithstanding not to reach the summit
but to greet the enduring members
of moss and lichen tribes the massive mineral cliffs
Higher up habitat vanishing
the furious glacier gods
feet bereft of ice upon which to make a stand
threaten acceleration of floods, further chaos
• • •
Having crossed the fugitive lake a caribou
poised to follow its herd up the ancestral trail
to the high plateau for the duration, pauses, turning.
The glacier gods have descended the mountains,
set up camp along the coast. A fog is rising.
—
Jan Conn’s Peony Vertigo, her tenth book, was published by Brick Books, 2023. She is a member of the writing group Yoko’s Dogs whose latest book is Caution Tape (Collusion Books, 2021). As a biologist at The Wadsworth Center, New York State Department of Health, she studies ecology and genetics of mosquitoes that transmit malaria parasites. Her visual art is represented by Lauren Clark Fine Art Gallery, in Great Barrington, MA, where she lives.
