The Book of Flies
by Jan Conn
Since her sons were taken from that bus in Iguala she has been watching the light being eaten by poinsettias all along Avenida Reforma. She has petitioned the governor, the president; she has stood in line at dawn among the others waiting for an audience, a word, a token. On the Periférico she has witnessed the graffiti artists painting El Gran Silencio. She has been one of three women by the red-domed church seen from the one hundred windows above, absorbed in the embroidery of her godforsaken soul. She has been unable to walk past the number 43 on the tiny triangle of grass, surrounded at all hours by traffic, or read the names of her sons on memorial plaques near the entrance to the beautiful park. She has sat on the stone steps in the courtyard when it was empty but for her and the flies. She has watched the flies trembling above rinds of fruit in the mute, dust-filled air. Each day during the month of miracles she addressed the Niño de Praga in the sanctuary, who had journeyed so far in his crown and blue jacket. She asked him this, the souls of the flies, are they grey, like ash? She, who has not prayed for those who killed her sons, she would like to know, is there a Book of Flies, where their names appear?
Jan Conn’s Peony Vertigo was published by Brick Books, Canada in 2023. She is a member of the collaborative writing group Yoko’s Dogs whose latest collection is Lunchbox Poems (Turret House Press, Montreal, 2025). She is a biologist who works on the vector biology of mosquitoes at New York State Department of Health, and a visual artist living on unceded Mohican territory in western Massachusetts. Her visual art can be seen at IG handle artistatplay001 and is represented by Lauren Clark Fine Art Gallery at laurenclarkfineart.com/collections/jan-conn.
From Here to There, acrylic paint, gouache, acrylic pen and pencil on wood panel, 24 x 24 inches, 2024. Click image to enlarge.