• No Ark
• Nickole Brown (bio)

—for Mary Oliver

Ain't no foxes here, Mary. Ain't no grasshoppers restingin my picnic palm. Ain't too many creatures worth a poem

like yours, just mewling strays tucked under the dangerous warmthof a pickup's hood, just poodles with painted nails clicking

pink across mama's linoleum floor—so few animals left to this chain-storesprawl, this clocked-in, bottled, fluorescent-lit existence, even our air

conditioned, vents pointing down with a force fierce enough to keepa bouquet of daisies in full bloom for months.

No, no marsh hawks or wild geese neither. Maybe a pet-shopparakeet with her dried green sprinkle on carpet of no consequential

color, maybe a street robin bopping its dingy breast among the crushof lip-sticked filters and cans, maybe a sparrow, like the one who kept

pecking my window last spring, fighting who knows what, probably his ownreflection, and because we believe in wives' tales around here, mama said,

Be careful now, death's trying to get in your home.

But then again, once, I did see a moth—he was big, bigas a burger, super-sized as a side of fries, so big he covered the yellow letter P

in a homemade sign spray-painted on the asphaltof the manager's spot, not No Parking but kept simple: No Park. [End Page 162]

I was walking—no, Mary, not through the woodsor along any breezy shore—but across the lot to the discount store.

But the moth, Mary, the moth—half-dead, electricgreen—was unlike anything I'd ever seen. A luna, I was later told,

but back then I thought him a myth knocked out of the sky,a neon messenger sent to tell me that things were once different back

when Noah had plenty to gather before the storm, but now, here it was,plain as day, spelled out for all who cared to see: No ark,

as in, Ain't no use, not now, not anymore. As in,Let it rain and rain and rain. Ain't nothing left to save.

And because I'm not you—no, Mary, I couldn't be if I tried—he scaredthe shit out of me—four drowsy eyes eyeing from tattered

wings, feathered antenna tasting my hair-sprayed artifice, his limpthistle legs that stuck to my hands when I carried him to a safer place—

well, not safe, exactly, but at least a place where he would be takenby beak or tooth and not smashed by tires or stomped by some brat's shoes.

But what I want to say to you is this: I was frightened, but I once triedto save a thing about to die, tried to ease what was to come.

And the bag girl, mentally handicapped and happyjust to have her first job, followed me with her rattling train

of carts and her mouth of too-small teeth tendered ina swollen pit of gums. And when I set the winged thing in the grass

behind the dumpster, the girl, she threw that red mouth of herswide, laughing and laughing into that long line of empty

carts. I tell you, she knew. And I never knew empty carts to be sodamn empty. Never knew how much each resembles a cage.

This poem has appeared in the chapbook To Those Who Were Our First Gods (Rattle, 2019). [End Page 163]

nickole brown is the author of Sister and Fanny Says. She lives in Asheville, North Carolina, where she volunteers at two different animal sanctuaries. To Those Who Were Our First Gods, a chapbook of poems about these animals, won the 2018 Rattle Prize, and her essay-in-poems, The Donkey Elegies, was published by Sibling Rivalry Press in 2020.

• 没有方舟
• 妮可·布朗（生物）

-对于玛丽·奥利弗

玛丽，这里不是狐狸。我的野餐掌上没有蚱resting 。没有太多的生物值得一首诗

像您一样，只是在杂物箱的引擎盖危险的温暖下藏着流浪的流浪狗，只用涂有指甲的贵宾犬clicking叫

在妈妈的油毡地板上呈粉红色-几乎没有动物留在这家连锁经营店中，这种钟控，瓶装，荧光灯照明的存在，甚至我们的空气

通风良好，通风口朝下指向，足以使一束雏菊盛开几个月。

不，没有沼泽鹰或野鹅。也许是一只宠物店的长尾小鹦鹉，她的干绿色洒在没有结果的地毯上

颜色，也许是一条街上的知更鸟在漆黑的口红过滤器和罐子的挤压中跳动其肮脏的乳房，也许是一只麻雀，就像那个

妈妈说，去年春天，我啄着窗户，与谁知道是什么，也许是他自己的反思打架，并且因为我们相信周围的妻子的故事，

现在要小心，死亡正在设法进入你的家。

但话又说回来，我确实看到了一只飞蛾-他大，像汉堡一样大，像薯条一样大，所以大到他覆盖了黄色字母P

在经理现场的沥青上喷涂了一个自制的标志，不是禁止停车，而是保持简单：禁止停车。[完页162]

我走着走-不，玛丽，不是穿过树林，也不是沿着任何凉风习习的海岸走，而是穿过很多地方到折扣店。

但是蛾，玛丽，蛾-半死了，电绿色-与我见过的任何东西都不一样。后来有人告诉我，露娜

但是那时候我以为他是一个神话从天而降，一个霓虹灯使者告诉我事情曾经是不同的。

当诺亚在暴风雨来临前有很多东西要收集时，但是现在，这一切变得平淡无奇，所有关心的人都明白了：没有方舟，

就像这样，不是没有用，不是现在，不再是。如图所示，让它下雨，再下雨，再下雨。没什么可保存的了。

而且因为我不是你-不，玛丽，如果尝试的话我就不会-他吓坏了我-昏昏欲睡的四只昏昏欲睡的眼睛在注视着

翅膀，羽毛状的天线品尝着我喷发的手法，当我将他抬到安全的地方时，他那li弱的蓟腿粘在了我的手上，

好吧，确切地说，不是安全的，但至少是一个地方，他会被喙或牙齿抓住，而不会被轮胎砸坏或被一些小子的鞋子踩死。

但是我想对你说的是：我很害怕，但是我曾经试图保存一件即将死亡的东西，试图缓解即将发生的事情。

那个智障的袋装女孩很高兴能找到她的第一份工作，然后跟着我跟着她嘎嘎作响的火车

的手推车和小牙齿的嘴在牙龈肿胀的小窝里抚摸着。当我把有翅膀的东西放在草地上

在垃圾箱后面的那个女孩，她把她那张红色的嘴张开，笑着笑到那排空的

推车。我告诉你，她知道。而且我从来不知道空的车子真是空无一人。不知道每个有多少像一个笼子。

这首诗已出现在《给我们的第一个神灵的人》（Rattle，2019）一书中。[完页163]

妮可·布朗（ Nickole Brown）是《姐妹》和《范妮说》的作者。她住在北卡罗来纳州的阿什维尔，在两个不同的动物保护区做志愿者。关于这些动物的诗集《致那些第一个神灵的人》获得了2018年Rattle奖，而她的诗作《驴子的挽歌》由兄弟姐妹竞争出版社于2020年出版。