September 27, 2023

Arctic Craniotomy by David Chorlton

We begin by shaving a patch
on the Earth’s crown
and clearing space to cut
through the skull and remove
a small flap so as
to see inside and focus on exactly
where to penetrate. There’s bleeding
to stop, and oil
for the taking. Break through a layer
of bone and one of shale, into brain
where ideas are formed
deeper into the darkness
into rich reserves and memories
of the accident
waiting for release
every one a gemstone yearning
for light while the oil is restless.
The injury is ready
to be treated, precision’s work
while the drills go down so far no
anesthetic works to block
the pain the planet feels. Time
for stitching back the skin; it’s
numb at first but soon
the feeling returns, a month of two
and then the hair
grows back and the only signs remaining
are the dents and small
irregularities, while
for land there is no surgeon, only
scars that shine by moonlight
where the caribou wander in migration
ever drawn toward
the north shore of the future.





David Chorlton lives in Phoenix where he has come to think of himself as part of the local landscape. Looking farther afield, he sees much of what is inflicted on the Earth as having parallels with what happens on occasion to us.

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