Natural History Lessons

  She started off Bright and Screaming with Joy or Loud Reprimand -- when her Children weren't Behaving Right. Older now, She constantly sucks her teeth. You can hear this Steady Disapproval in the static between stations. At first, Pale Men of Progress were annoyed, thinking it must  be some mistake they needed to tune out. After  tweaking and training their machines, they grew desperate and even sought to Shoo Out the Wily Pigeons Pooping and Roosting in the Receiver. Alas, At last, Atlas had to admit that these emissions were the hissing  of their Ancient Mother. Who had birthed them out of Stardust.

 

 

  She remembers when  They  were just minute motes swirling   in the hot, dark soup of her rocky womb. But that was eons ago and  She has been through a lot since then — Periods of Hot-Quaking, Times of Near-Forgetting in Frozen Solitude. More recently, She enjoyed a long, gentle Calm — Rocking her babies in the not-too-warm sun, Singing lullabies in Temperate Tempos, Full Bellies, Safe Homes, A Steading Sowing and Sewing, A Sturdy, Patterned Quilt of Seasons. But now, They are pushing her in unprecedented ways — the ugliest,  most clever, most naked  of her many children. Forced by Them, Her breath is coming Hot and Fast now, Furious, Deep, and Destructive, Bending, Breaking, and Snapping some of her Eldest and most beloved — Their ancient, verdant crowns — Fallen and Gone. In places, She is Coerced into intense, unnatural, and unwanted Pregnancy. She bulges green — Exploding  in pollen, ticks, and mosquitoes, Buds bursting painfully  in mid...

I am harboring Resentment. She is a Big Ship — Heavy. Came in with the rising tide, ground upon  the sands of my heart.   There is a Plague  upon the land. Braying, yodeling nonsense — its critical symptom.   It was supposed to be an easy thing. Numbers nudge upward, and it just made sense — to be kind, to put fabric over face, to follow the facts, to get the cleverest jab  the world has ever seen —  thanks to the tireless work  of the smartest women.   But the Trumpeting of Elephants   was so loud, that even the kindest got tired, worn down.    Now the Old Broad rots slowly, marring the view of the bay. People come to look at her, ever drawn to an eyesore, prodding her planks, testing her tender thwarts.   So,  I went back to read  the fine print. Turns out —  “pretty views are 100%                         ...

  My symbiont —  Presented to me in pixels, Called to me from the ether, Traveled to me 1,500 miles To cement our bond. With the body of a sausage, Legs of a gopher, And the jaws of a killer, He is a ridiculous golden wolf Engineered into  Perfect permanent puppyhood. Our symbiosis is primarily trot-based: Front feet flicking joyfully, Pissin’ n sniffin’ On every dam post. The ludicrous length of his tail — A stiff yellow rope  Tracking high above him, Tagging his location Like a slightly stretched question mark Marking his constant canine queries — Odor-based inquiries, Beyond my cerebral comprehensions. The uneven flop of his radar ears — One pointing sideways, One straight up Catching signals from all directions. The beloved slack and curl Of his black ripply lips As He snuffs and huffs Invisible trails along the earth. Delighted, The tight coil in my chest Releases, Worrying ceases. I see — The many hues of leaves, The singing shapes of the trees, The smoky peach...

  It was her time and The Pack was ready. With a toothy grin, a fang hanging over her lip, she slipped into the night to join her furry brethren — a chorus of joyous howls in the distance marking the reunion. At first, no one noticed the odd, odd thing —  an extra tilt of salt into the stew, weeds in the garden, candy wrappers in the kitchen — Marks of a changeling. Then one day, the youngest grandchild remarked “Grandma’s little finger is missing.” Grandma’s favorite — they were known for their wild imagination and were paid no mind. The random clove of garlic, appearing on the kitchen counter, where Grandma had been chopping carrots , was also paid no heed, swept aside into the bin. Things got really interesting after that. She let the grandkids watch endless TV, cooked and ate a steak (nearly raw). A bottle of brandy was found in the beehives. Vegetables, thrown from the window. These fennel defenestrations finally made the family take notice of the changes to her head — bu...