Fossil at the Museum

human fossil

 

You know the party has gone too far

When you make a tiger cry.

When the monster eating the world

Looks so much like you, that

You doubt, for a minute or two,

Wondering if you have turned into

A sort of Dr. Jacky and Mr. Hyde.

And you have.

Your foot print has transformed into that

Of the giant running after Jack. Squishing it all.

In your sleep-walk you have become

The black swan of death, and in the spices

And oils by your hob, is the orangutan’s howl,

The shattering, woeful moan for its lost home.

You have been dancing far too hard and your

Feet have started the fire that’s burning the world,

That will make the rhino and the elephant

Legends like the phoenix and the unicorn.

You are the bogey man to baby seals and bees.

Mother whales scare their young by imitating your face,

And in the future to come, evolved alligators will

Visit your bones at their swampy museums, and wonder

How you did it: how you ended it all?

How you ate the beauty and spat out desolation,

The wasteland that would be your ultimate end?

And they will laugh. Some of them.

And when their alligator kids misbehave,

Acting truly stupidly, no Dodo will be mentioned.

They will call out your name instead:

Oh you, destroyer of worlds,

Oh you, slayer of your own race,

Oh you, Master of creation,

Ending as a polished fossil

At the end of the corridor B, in exhibit eight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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