After walking beneath blue whale bones
and following the loops of mammoth tusks,
I linger near an unsuspecting model:
the squat, shapely form of a moeritherium.
Indirect ancestor of elephants and sea cows,
all Eocene curves with soft, painted eyes.
The grey egg of her body is dwarfed
by stockier relatives, but she seems
to float in front of me, goddess of buoyancy,
the spirit of the semi-aquatic. I admire her
womb-shaped face, her stubby trunk, which
is touch-whitened from decades of petting,
but resist the urge to reach out. I am content
with our closeness, the shared beauty
of those without descendants.
–
Bex Hainsworth is a poet and teacher based in Leicester, UK. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Atrium, The McNeese Review, Sonora Review, Nimrod, and trampset. Walrussey, her debut pamphlet of ecopoetry, is published by The Black Cat Poetry Press.