Nevada-Jane Arlow

a transsexual prehistory of the cenozoic: an oratorio

1. biogenesis 

in the bone crushing heat 
and choking smoke of Chicxulub 
i made my birth in her crater

and when the last dinosaur 
shut his eyes, i hoisted out my mammalian form
and dragged myself across the bruised earth, 
filled the continents and seas 
with hot blooded beasts 

my ascendancy 
an Age of Tits 
my geology like an Artemis of Ephesus 
whose effigy, undeniably a divine mammalian,
is covered head to toe with the breasts 
i crafted with two tiny claws 

during this time i ate placenta, 
shepherded sirenians, pinnipeds and cetaceans
back to the sea 
fused the americas 
made and unmade glaciers, and 
killed a very big murderous bird 

i did well, i think, 
filled the gaps and made some 
so life could rush in 
i was and am and always will be a good gaian 

2. reminiscences 

there are nights, 
full of heat and buzzing insects 
sleepless and beautiful 
where i sit up in my bed and consider the andrewsarchus
a prepossessing giant killer sheep 
her hooves were cloven 
but with a long maw that hid large incisors
that i arranged in a semicircular configuration 
a creature for my heart 

on the baked beaches of Inner Mongolia 
no one else of her time loved her 

i watched her from long grasses & trees
tear through the flesh of small horses 
and take her fill 

and while i adored her, 
gaps were made (i ensured them) 
and new toothy killer beasts arrived: 
the cat, the bear, the weasel, the dog 
quick footed, clawed, and with forward facing eyes
so when the forests gave way to grassland she was
gone 

the cycle was new, she couldn’t keep up
you cannot blame me for turning the wheel 

in the waning maw of winter 
i stand sentinel in a snowy moor 
and i dream again of when 
Ice striped my earthly body 
made cuts and incisions, canyons and deep rivers
my geology rebent by frozen water 
retreating and advancing with each breath
and every movement of tectonic muscle 

i have been fickle 
and never without consequences, i’ll admit
plenty of wooly things have shut their eyes
mammoths, mastodons, rhinoceroses, 
the dire wolf and the cave bear 
even my beloved giant sloth
for whom I wept, and still do 
the cycle was new, she couldn’t keep up 
you cannot blame me for turning the wheel 

i have others 
that will remain occulted to you 
bone needs the right conditions 
for me to etch in rock and i have been selective
the closest ones will remain there 
my beloveds return to only me 
in dust 

3. orogeny 

sure, i never made pangea 
and her descendants, atlas and appalachia 
i am not so prolific (thus far) 
in making mountains 

but it is i who sent the india plate
shooting into asia with such force 
that i upended the ocean’s crust 
and folded the himalayas into being 
and, during my ice phase 
i sketched in freshwater 
with terrific riverine linework 
then drank up the whole of the mediterranean and
spat it out 

someday, soon to me, 
i will patch the americas with asia 
creating a greater mountain range 
stitching this earth from ass to ear 

side by side with the placenta, the himalayas
and killing that fucking bird 
a portfolio for the ages 
which post-humans will drool over
if they have drool 

i will not cease from Mental Fight, 
nor shall my ice or fur or plate sleep in my hand:
till i have built a cogent record 
of how i weaved the earth back from Chicxulub