Left on Prospect
- Apr 8, 2022
- 1 min read
by Adrian Dallas Frandle
Nothing converts one to an augur faster than an abdominal ultrasound on Valentine’s Day. Anointed into the priesthood of interpretation with one swipe of warm gel to the belly. Or, perhaps it was the juvenile eagle one would be tracking on one’s drive home from the appointment. Maybe one would watch it circling, and slow down the car to try and snap a picture (the danger meager — the situation benign — there are few other cars). One would become enrapt with its form cutting the sky. Taken up in its gorgeous plumage mottled like a border collie’s brindled coat. One would continue and keep pace down Stratford Road. One would take a left on Prospect and marvel as it intersects with two white-capped adults, dangling a snake and vying for sustenance. One might stop the car and check that no one else was watching. One may gasp as the trio pulses and dips in and out of view only to surface again above the gables and trees. Not struggling. One would be ashamed to see a family sharing and assume it was violence. As if nature cared for results or the difference. One could read the signs in one’s own entrails that morning. Look closely, the eye of the ultrasound sharp as an eagle’s.
Adrian Dallas Frandle (he/they) is a poet, queer, and reluctant augur. A poetry editor for Variant Lit & a reader for Okay Donkey Lit Mag, they have words in or forthcoming in CLOVES Literary, Kissing Dynamite, HAD, Daily Drunk Mag, Moist Poetry Journal, Stone of Madness Press & elsewhere. More online at adriandallas.com — Tweets: @adrianf
