To climb the ruby-and-coral spine of the world
in broad daylight
to bid adieu to the male cardinal hopping on one leg
among the fallen fruit and seeds
Up the rock-strewn path
a new vista from each hairpin curve
as the makers intended
seeing simultaneously ahead and behind
non-linear place and time
neither spiral nor labyrinth
Small gestures of admiration
of schist and gneiss, the star cloak fern
wedged into a shaded
ledge, the lit ocotillo.
This lunar new year we arrived early, feeling
for the shift from rabbit to dragon, mammal
to reptile. Eating the colour yellow,
a ground squirrel. A desert snake
shed one of its skins, black diamond
after black diamond emerging.
A prayer for rainwater released on the wind,
velveteen touch of a sage leaf along one wrist.
In an arroyo sin agua, sin agua, sin agua,
we recall that we are mammals; we shiver.
—
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.
