Four Poems

Dodo

Raphus cucullatus

Okay, so we’re famous for all the wrong reasons,
Our ancestors shed their energy expense & settled
On Mauritius – selection did the rest & our wings 
Pared back. Portuguese found us, forest dwelling.
We were both food & amusement for European 
Lunch breaks. Paid for our round the world trip
By eating stones in all the grand capitals, but our
Bodies were farcical, beaks delivered a nasty bite.
Once the tour was over, bird comedy dead, more
Serious matters took hold, Dutch landlords moved
In. Your domesticity ended our talent show & tired 
Of shitting rocks, we invaded your mothertongue.
Carved out a comfy niche in your lingual evolution.
A new grammatical species took over – dodo idiom.

Great Auk

Pinguinus impennis

You slept on us mostly –Vikings invented the mattress
& needed stuffing, otherwise Old Norse spines ended up 
As museum pieces! Geirfugl you named us, which could 
Translate as ‘a good nights sleep’, but we linguistically trail –
Blazed the march of penguins long before you discovered 
Their southern spot; we meant ‘fat’ in Latin, which was an 
Open invite to berserkers & fishermen alike. We laid one 
Egg a year & spent our days swimming in the ocean’s yolk.
When we were nothing more than legend collectors dove in. 
We ended up an Icelandic saga. Three heroes topped us off – 
Brandsson, Islefsson and Ketilsson sent to recover specimens
& eggs finished up with the lot! As Fenrir the Wolf licked our 
Feathers, a permanent winter set in. By 1844 it was all over. 
As extinctions go, ours was a mild enough Ragnarok.

Passenger Pigeon

Ectopistes migratorius

We spent a whole day winging by your window
Blue-feathered arrows that enchanted children.
So cloaked, that we shadowed you from the sun.
In legion we broke trees down, our species weight 
Bent facts, five billion of us once monstered acorn, 
Chestnut, rivers of the sky, we churned thermals 
With our morse code hearts: we passed as thought.
Your hunger snapped us up, we fed your nesting 
Instinct, great rookeries you built on hilltops west
Consuming forest & beech nut, crying forward!
Isn’t it ironic then, that just as our kind winked out
Zoo poked one early September morn, your species 
Of mass destruction woke up & looking for someone
New to kill, & export, turned your attention inward.

Night Parrot

Pezoporus occidentalis

We’re the kind of bird that gets poets going,
Our cult status assured, we’re the half-mythical, 
Anti-institutional un-parrot like animal, night-
Addicted, we need our Southern Cross fix like
Your kind need to argue existence, ours mainly.
We’re specialists in leaving you tantalising clues, 
The outback’s full of bodies they say, we dumped 
One for you by the side of the road, circa 1990.
No featherprints detected. Our death is a private 
Matter, nightriders versus skywalkers – it’s a level
Playing field thing. We’ve learnt from experience
That your species can’t handle these half measures. 
Perhaps, we only exist in your poetic imagination,
Not knowing is the worst; you poor, poor creatures.