Another Equinox
1
find a day you think is
auspicious:
a Solstice
an Equinox
a funeral
and go to the water
when the glint of her color that day
fills your eyes
remove your shoes
step into the
intersection
the Vortex of Mom
fill your lungs and
apologize.
2
wherever you are
Feed All the Birds
others will come,
the desperate and the lame
they too have mitochondrial memory.
listen beyond your eyes
to their two notes descending
their testimony of loss
Feed All the Birds
and witness the rare
the intersection
of lives in this moment
this one
this one
one day, a single Sandhill Crane will allow
himself your proximity
his orange gaze
meets yours
offer him seeds
and step away
in a basket nearby is his wife
the mother of his children
who is silent at the edge of listening.
over days of years,
their echo rises to the horizon
including those of hers upon
finding their babies dead
her cry a core of grief
unmistakable in any language
they too have mitochondrial memory
and one June
just standing
at an intersection of equal grace
will be the surviving child
shown to you
because that child is yours too
theirs and yours
in now in memory in now
3
the trick is to coexist
to own your body
the actions of your hands
one morning, the lizard watches you
beyond your eyes
is his subsonic song
his posture of courtship
two notes
keep yourself still
just breathe
count if you must these moments
memories of now
ours in the mitochondrial
in the Vortex of Mom
4
the trick is to coexist
and by this
we witness
critical data
in the land of death
there are no birds
perhaps a lone dove
escaped from a wedding
perches on a wire –
the garrote of the ecosystem –
quietly cooing two plaintive notes
echoed in the mitochondrial memory
by whales as the arctic burns
by all that dies in the fires of the amazon
by all that dies
in the Vortex of Mom
winged sister
winged witness
who tries to coexist
to learn our tricks
of where we leave food
we shall feed you
and share pride in your new ducks
we witness your two notes
your core of all language
your feathers at our feet
each a touch of the surf, sun, sand, salt
echoing our eternal memory
in the Vortex of Mom
Su Zi is a 2023 Zoeglossia Fellow. She has been writing life-long, with publications in poetry, fiction, essay and interview/essay form, both in literary periodicals and special interest publications for equestrian life. She's a maker of art in a variety of forms, including painting, printmaking, artistbooks, and pottery, and publisher of an artist-made, eco-feminist, chapbook series called Red Mare. Her latest book is from Hysterical Books.
