By Jonathan Chan
AT TEOTIHUACAN giving shape to a world at the boundary of light and darkness, the cosmic pillars begin to tremble. one pyramid held up to the sun, the other help up to the moon, synchrony with the loom of mountains harmony of sealed stone. at one end, the feathered serpent. at the other, the lithe jaguar. grand avenue paved for the apex of ritual, the witness of blood and obsidian, before the whiplash of light that almost since then has recalled atomic fire. pure propulsion dissolving flesh, gods of rainwater, of falling water engulfed by the silt of the lake. the trampling of a power that builds, unbuilds, and builds again. day in, day out, the crawling on dead hands, the loosening of clay, the carving of divinity in black stone, language smothered, nestled in the heart of another. roses tumble down a garment: no longer a serpent, a jaguar, but the serene face of a maiden, a new mother to all. roses sprout in the tropics. the pyramids have borne this sun setting on one empire and the next, the coalition and crumble of militias, the youngblood crying from the soil beneath, and always the tremors, the tremors. an eye beholds the sun through an obsidian disc. a perpetual light. a single orange spot.
Jonathan Chan is a writer and editor of poems and essays. He is the author of the poetry collection, going home (Landmark, 2022). His writing can be found at jonbcy.wordpress.com.
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL