Jan/Feb 2019 Poetry Special Feature

New Mexico Whiptail

by Judy Kaber

Image salvaged from public domain

New Mexico Whiptail*

In the early ache of night I become lizard,
spotted and sleek, created and raised
from a mother. I do without males.

In the early stretch of morning, thus
does the sun spill from within
my back drawn to pale yellow stripes.

In tender plum of shade, in hard triangle
of desert vale, I skitter about, wary
of thrashers and snakes. My ground,

my heritage, unique, not found
in great abundance. Yet I dance rocky
gulches, rub against a love, wait weeks.

In the early ache of night, a vision
climbs into my heart, knits me whole again
as I await the bright fracture of eggs.

*Note: The New Mexico whiptail reproduces through parthenogenesis.


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