Two yellow monitor lizards, varanus flavescens
hug each other close and human like. I know
some things about them. Subcorneal teeth,
short snout, slit nose. The yellow monitor is mysterious,
their population in constant flux always rising and
falling. I know the word thermoregulates by definition
and I know it’s how a yellow monitor lizard keeps itself alive.
It lives in a flood plain, warming itself on stones
along the Brahmaputra river. I know how
to hug someone — feel their pulse beat
against mine. I am encyclopedic.
The sun is setting, I can’t remember
what I was talking about — the yellow monitors
memorize the moment. They will die,
claws dug into scaled grooves — tail to snout. I
will remember them when they are shells. Their hearts
beat together for a moment, sun bathing.
They’re under an amber blanket
nestled on the coast silhouette. In a room somewhere
a doctor is telling me I will forget my mother’s face.
I will remember the yellow monitor lizards.
Something about scales, and touch, and warmth.