STEGOSAURUS
Humanized by the secret caress of children
the caramelized dinosaur at the playground
looms over the seesaw’s chewing rhythm
like an offering. In my dream I decipher
the split of the many words for footstep, a jungle’s
tears, reassembling them into
carbon dated mechanics, a computer print out
of fleeing herds, the desperate and doomed
wrapped up together in words like eon and love.
At my end of extinction I’m a little droopy eyed,
waiting outside the museum for a cab, some
purpose, or just lingering with not much else
to motivate, perhaps masticating a cud
waiting for the world and its children
to fawn over my reassembled corpse. Copyright © Jay Snodgrass. White Whale Review, issue 1.1