Gestation

Gestation

We are saving the White Rhino.Weaving six-foot probes throughrectums, maneuvering major bloodvessels like sixteen-year-old boysaround traffic cones. We are slidingeggs from ovaries, gasping thintubes toward gloved hands dangerouslypulsing a fraction of an inch eachtime the heart beats. We eject theminto Petri dishes perfectly pocked, eggssafely shining in fluid like little, wet suns.

We are extinguishing Aedes aegypti,tinkering males, silencing buzzingsperm. In labs, millions hatch, are irradiated,then dropped from planes into cities to matewith the wild mosquito—her see-throughwings, blood-tipped lips, skirt so shortyou can see her stinger.

We are reducing the populationof Lionfish, those waterborne porcupinesexploding by millions along Eastern shores.We are garnishing them with pickled radishes,charging $25 a plate. We watch the sun setwhile picking meat out from betweenour incisors.

We are saving the Sand Cat who can survivetemperatures between 23 and 125 degrees.Transferring twenty-one embryos, freezingtwenty-nine. Only one embryo implantsbut it splits: blooms in two.When they arrive we will name themafter planets or gods. Somethingunreal. Something terrifying. Venus, Vulcan,Chantico, Hephaestus who, if givenmetal & fire, can recreate the world.