“Earth Eater” by Jaclyn Desforges
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Earth Eater” by Jaclyn Desforges.
Earth Eater
by Jaclyn Desforges
Jaw creaks open like a rusty old opening
Whales have fingers and how to swallow one
Is to open bigger than you’ve ever opened:
You are a door and
Through the door is your body
Which you thought of as a marmot
Only bigger, only wiser, only
Maybe in possession of something immortal
With five fingers on each hand
And eyes for measuring
Something capable of stretching open wide
We’re waiting for you to swallow us down
To the dark cave of your inside belly
You were made to cradle the universe
You were made to hold all our bodies
Your jaw is bigger than a fleet
Your jaw is an open gate and it doesn’t even hurt
When the anemones come in, the dolphins
When you are bigger than the sea
You get lower than the sea
The art of opening is to make room for what is longed for
Like the slate grey body of an ordinary whale
Eventually you see yourself under everything
Carrying our solar system
On the hydraulic lift of your hipbones
“Earth Eater” was previously published in Contemporary Verse 2.
Jaclyn Desforges is the 2023/2024 Mabel Pugh Taylor Writer In Residence at McMaster University and Hamilton Public Library. She’s the queer and neurodivergent author of Danger Flower (Palimpsest Press), winner of the 2022 Hamilton Literary Award for Poetry and one of CBC’s picks for the best Canadian poetry of 2021. She’s also the author of a picture book, Why Are You So Quiet? (Annick Press, 2020).
Subscribe to Poetry Pause, or support Poetry Pause with a donation today!