"Heavy Duty Reliquary" by Jill Bergantz Carley
Heavy Duty Reliquary
I’ll tell you about a batholith.
Bulk of mountains a single structure made of granite,
cooled in the earth’s mantle for millions and millions of years
and then pushed to the surface.
The backbone of my state was born premature,
heart of heat crystallizing in the belly of the world.
Near here there is a magma cast of an entire river.
I’ll tell you how it happened;
there was the lava crowding out the water running headlong fifty miles,
teapot tipped, cup overflowing,
then erosion carving through the soil soft surrounding it
the once-river’s new flow firm like the pit of a cling peach.
Tell me, please, the story of what happened
to each fish held in those waters, evaporating
spherical lenses untrained to this novel aberration.
I picture a coelacanth cast in homemade plaster.
I picture the predecessors of crawdads settling,
amniotic aufferous gravels,
perfectly born, but still.
Photo Credit: Staff