I: The Roadside
A raven’s clawed talon
clutches at the dead branch
of a now dead pinyon pine
that grew from a rock
above the highway
seven miles outside
of Jemez Springs.
The sleek bird,
shiny as a black chess piece,
with even darker eyes
(if possible)
watches the roadside heap of
what once was a dog,
someone’s pet, most likely.
The bird perched in the tree
all night, waiting for the sun
and light to arch into the canyon,
and for one more car or truck
to open the furred body
to an inquisitive beak.
The sun turns the road shoulder
grass to flame, and invites
the Indian paintbrush to open its
bloodstained leaves.
None of this had to happen
and none of it had
to be beautiful.
Why, in Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights,
did he paint a lion disemboweling a deer?
II: The Nudge
From my house, it takes about an hour:
A seven mile drive to the
free parking lot above the picnic grounds,
then down the trail to the creek,
over the bridge; turn left and walk
past the picnic benches
towards the old water pumphouse.
Turn up the gully, try to stay on the main trail,
mostly a steep staircase of rock.
Once on dirt again, veer left,
angle up through Gambel’s oak,
past an outcropping of volcanic tuff,
up again to a fallen ponderosa pine
on top of the ridge
where you find a good place to sit
and have a drink of water.
Climb over the trunk--
do not follow its edge
or you will get lost on another trail
that goes to the top of the overlook rock.
The trail you want goes left,
and drops into the slot.
At a low notch, the trail is obvious:
slide down into the slot
and follow the water upstream.
When you reach the elk skeleton,
mostly ribs and vertebra now--
the odor is long gone--
the creek forks.
Touch each fork, and follow the warm one, or
look upstream, and go to the right.
Three pools situate beneath a scree of rock;
the best one sits furthest up.
Strip naked, keep your eye on the poison ivy,
and step into the water.
Then, remember,
you squat there inside a liquid eye
of the earth soaking your body in warm water.
You might feel a nudge
as your mind relaxes a little.
Benjamin Green
Benjamin Green is the author of eleven books including The Sound of Fish Dreaming (Bellowing Ark Press, 1996). At the age of sixty-seven, he hopes his new work articulates a mature vision of the world and does so with some integrity. He resides in Jemez Springs, New Mexico.
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