Rasp Wail of the Rock Ptarmigan
by Zachary Del Nero Issue Two: Poetry
Photo by Ivan Bandura
I. Vermont, 1999
Dad buys a thick gray book
winking revelation: Annals
of the Former
World. But its words
are too heavy,
heavier than the things
they describe.
Shale. Trona.
Craton. Core.
II. Grímsnes, 2024
The Kerið crater rim
looks down the gullet
of a one-time volcano,
dead
yet defying
the Iceland wind.
Where was this air before
it was here? Strange to be
something that’s something
when it moves and then blinks
away at rest. If I’m only me
when I take a breath—here,
not here—am I doubled
or halved?
Or perhaps I’m not the roll,
rattle, and rasp wail
of the rock ptarmigan
but the glide
that follows.
Moss beards the iron-red
rocks, and the clouds float above,
silent-letter-dead.
How can anything have an age? How
can anything have a thickness? What
will become of the holes
and fissures
in the Earth, and
of its gullshit-covered cliffs?
Zachary Del Nero is a Philadelphia-based creative all-rounder. His writing has appeared in Jelly Squid Magazine, 3Elements Literary Review, and The Sun Magazine. He has an MEd and an MS in Technical Communication. Previously a high school English teacher, he now works in graphic design and digital media. He has a passion for poetry, speculative fiction, and comics, and also takes an academic interest in urban studies and maps. His visual art explores the intersection of identity, language, and cities. Outside of the arts, he is an avid hiker, climber, and cyclist. Visit him at zdelnero.com
