Poems by Jennifer Gauthier
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Animal Contact
by Jennifer Gauthier
Jennifer writes from a small southern city nestled between the Blue Ridge mountains and the mighty James River on land that belonged to the Monacan people. Her study has a verdant view which includes old Southern magnolias, pine, elm, oak and holly trees plus an incredible saucer magnolia. She is regularly serenaded by songbirds such as cardinals, blue jays, Eastern bluebirds, mockingbirds, pileated woodpeckers and a resident pair of red-shouldered hawks.
I.
Last night the power was out
for four hours
A gaping emptiness forced itself on me
with the moon too new to come to
my rescue
I burrowed under blankets to
seek refuge in a dark of my own
making
while sleepless squirrels played
tag along the wires
skittering, dancing, chattering
to each other in their wakeful
bliss
a young buck chewed a frayed
line brought down by the ice
a groundhog burrowed, catching her claws
on a cable buried not deep
enough
II.
When we walk on the land that
was a golf course
now partially converted into a housing development
we stumble across all manner
of dead
For days a full deer carcass lay
wedged under the bridge
spanning a small stream
its stench spreading farther
and farther
Until one day we found
skeletal remains – a spine
and ribs, pelvic bone and skull
with teeth
Then, for days
parts of that skeleton migrated
all over the old golf course:
we came across the pelvis
in a stand of tall golden grass
the skull and spine
tucked into a nook under a tree
then later a jawbone
lying exposed
in the path
Twice I nearly stepped
on tiny furry bodies that looked
like mice
but upon closer inspection revealed
pointed snouts protruding
little nostrils shriveled
hair slick with dew and curled in
on themselves
III.
This is the place we take our COVID
puppy to run and frolic and
chase a red frisbee
After it rains puddles pool
in the grass so deep he can
submerge his
long puppy belly
On unseasonably warm winter days
he lies in the stream
Even in the cold he takes a dip
chases snowballs thrown by
my son
At first he stays within sight
but as he gets older he starts
to stray further and
further away
until one day he bolts –
across the big street heading toward
home
We run to catch him and meet him
as he lopes back to us
On one of his wild roams he
finds the skull and spine
now just a handful of vertebrae
with the skull
wobbling on top
teeth exposed, joints
gnawed down to smooth nubs
strands of muscle still clinging
to the bleached bone
He grabs it and runs down a hill
into a thicket
the skull dangling and
the smell skunky and
foul.
IV.
On the last day of 2019 all
the monkeys in the Krefeld zoo
died
They say Chinese lanterns ignited a blaze
that couldn’t be controlled
It ran wildly
through the enclosures
and the monkeys had
no escape
To think they watched those
lights burning in the sky
clapping and howling
jumping with glee
before the thick smoke obliterated
the glow and
darkness swallowed them
the last breath gulped
in awe
V.
In some cities
animals are roaming deserted streets
boars in Barcelona
pelicans in London
sheep standing in line outside
a deserted McDonald’s
in Wales
and flocks of flamingos painting
Mumbai pink
Perhaps we have colonized their world
for too long
Perhaps they will now take it
back
VI.
Animal contact, they said
Animal contact was the reason for the
disruption
Animal contact
But we are the enemy
the danger
the force that destroys
and to plunge us into darkness
for one night
well, that’s fair warning
© Jennifer Gauthier