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Ebony E. Chinn

Mourning the Loss of Dinosaurs

 

As dawn seeps through my window,

the sound of chirping greets me.

If I listen closely,

I can hear the sound of roaring.

Scientists believe that birds

are the only living dinosaurs.

 

I, too, can be a dinosaur.

They survived for millions of years.

I remind myself that growing

feathers takes millions of years.

 

I wonder what could’ve been

if they were all here.

Not in a Spielberg sort of way,

but rather an alternate version of events

that doesn’t lead to our extinction.

 

If only you were still here…

roaming.

 

When I think of you,

I mourn the dinosaurs that didn’t

live beyond impact and eruption.

I think of all the fauna

that never had a chance to grow.

 

Without any record of your existence,

I want to believe your bones are still here,

as if they ever were.

We were both dinosaurs once.

 

Uncovered calcium turned discovery by new hands,

I make a museum out of us both,

as I put myself on a display

you will never see or touch again.

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