Jeremy Luke Hill : two poems

 

Microchimaerism

Microchimaerism is the presence of genetically distinct cells in one body. In nature, it occurs only through the transfer of cells between mother and fetus during pregnancy. The child's cells are carried in the mother’s body for years afterwards, perhaps for life.

We exchange cells with children in our care.
No matter how they come to us, we become 

one creature. You may as well divide soul
from spirit, or joint from marrow, or sense 

from matters of the heart. The mythological
chimaera was composed of lion, goat, 

and dragon. My eldest son is none of these.
He is the wolf, by way of a surname 

passed down through his mother's line.
Chimaeric cells increase immunity 

in mother and foetus, but also cancers.
This is called love coming at a cost. 

The chimaera of myth was slain by arrows
from the safe height of a flying Pegasus. 

My middle son flies too. He is the hawk,
an inheritance from his birth-father, name 

begetting name. We can't discern blood
from blood through human senses. A mother's 

wounds may flow with a child's cells and she
will never know. If she puts her lips to the cut, 

she'll taste only mineral and bitter iron,
never the memory of the child she bore. 

Parenthood guarantees nothing except
that we carry our children in this way. 

My youngest son is the ram, has always been.
No one remembers why. Though he has names 

in plenty, none means ram. The word chimaera
can describe any hybrid of human 

and beast, usually implying monstrosity,
usually when it has no other name. 

It might be used to name a new creature
combining wolf and hawk and ram. 

My foster daughter was not with us long
enough to discover her animal self. 

This has always felt like a metaphor
for what we lost. Cells that are transferred 

early from the fetus to the mother sometimes
combine with the mother's organs, become part 

of her body, so that her heart will beat,
at least in some small way, with her child’s DNA. 

Nature does not care when it falls into cliché.

 

Cuckoo Birds 

Cuckoo birds are brood parasites, laying their eggs in the nests of other birds. This behaviour is an evolutionary strategy that benefits the parasitic parents by allowing them to avoid the risk and investment of raising young themselves. This is why the phrase "cuckoo's egg" is sometimes used to describe children who are orphaned or adopted. 

The commonest question: How can you love them
as your own? The shells of cuckoo eggs can be 

thicker and stronger than those of their hosts
and have two distinct layers: the inner thin 

like a chicken egg, the outer thick and chalky
to protect them when being dropped into the nest. 

Adoption and fostering are experienced as trauma,
always. In some stories the cuckoo sucks the eggs 

of other birds before laying its own in the nest.
This is false. Another question: Is it awkward 

that they don't look like you? Female cuckoos
often lay eggs that resemble those of their host. 

I have been mistaken for my kids' coach, teacher,
social worker. I have known concerned citizens 

to call Children's Aid to report child trafficking
when a father picks his adoptive children up 

from school. This is called seeing something
and saying something. And still another question: 

How much do you get paid to take these kids?
Cuckoo chicks encourage the host to feed them 

with begging calls and open mouths. The basis
of attachment is a child's satisfied need. Cuckoo 

eggs hatch earlier than the host's eggs. The chicks
grow faster, evicting the nestlings of the host. 

They have no social model for this behaviour.
It is instinct. Not the last question: Why would you 

do some other parent's job for them? The term
"cuckold" has long been used to mock husbands 

whose wives are having affairs. Similarly, "cuck"
has become an insult among insecure man-babies 

for those they perceive to be weak and sensitive.
Cuckoos have no way to recognize their offspring 

once they are grown. My kids know their birth
and foster parents, more or less. Some traditions 

hold that the cuckoo, if burnt and the ashes eaten,
can cure stomach pains and insomnia. There is 

an association between cuckoos and loneliness.

 

 

 

 

Jeremy Luke Hill is the publisher at Gordon Hill Press and The Porcupine's Quill, small press literary publishers based in Guelph, Ontario. He has written several books, chapbooks, and broadsheets, most recently Microchimaera (Baseline Press, 2024). His writing has appeared in many magazines and journals, including The Antigonish Review, ARC Poetry, CNQ, CV2, EVENT Magazine, Filling Station, Free Fall, The Goose, HA&L, The Maynard, and The Puritan. His latest publication, the chapbook a nest, a burrow, a lea stone, is forthcoming with above/ground press.