Friday Poem: "Holocene Reconnaissance"

This poem references a real book, Mysteries of the Unexplained, but it might have been Strange Stories, Amazing Facts or any number of tomes that I had (and still have) in my library of folklore, mythology, and field guides to monsters. Among the more terrifying images of Bigfoot, Nosferatu, and the Chupacabra, the story of a toad emerging from a lump of coal proved fascinating. I convinced my brother that we might find one in the Coffrens' fuel pile outside their garage. Needless to say, we found none, and were in deep trouble to boot. "Holocene" refers to the geologic epoch we are presently living in.

Holocene Reconnaissance

In the coal pile, the bad-egg whiff of anthracite, blackened 
to the ankle we rummaged for prehistoric toads, sealed 
like dead rumors. An irresponsible tome on “the Unexplained”
directed us there, in search of any wobbling 

meteoric lump, its amphibian captive tapping 
the inside, hearing for the first time warm-blooded 
voices. Our plan:  with the sharp edge of a scoop release 
a dusty croak into late Quaternary daylight, help it 

find water, other, more sophisticated
toads.  It would be a carbonized Easter, cracking open
a black shell whorled as an oily fingerprint: and we would be
the heroes of the tale, nine years old and able to read

gratitude in slit-pupils, wide lipless scowls—
five minutes’ reconnaissance and nothing.  Then neanderthal
swings of the flat shovel, smashing nuggets to powder in the driveway.
We’re thrilled by the amphibian deep in the dark inside us:  

wordless, submerged in the mind, and dreaming:
dreaming to plummet far, a million years, 
a sudden tumble down time’s spiral staircase.
A fall dizzying as a thunderhead 
that showers silver minnows instead of rain.

For Jon

An earlier version of this poem appeared in the chapbook "Techniques of Avalanche Survival."