Unrecorded Extinction - Cop26 Ii
She’s not as dramatic as a hurricane or forest fire
Just someone’s old mother
Arranging her daily dignity
In an unrefrigerated apartment
She’s got a cushion chair
An oxygen tank
A bed
Her toilet
Weather Channel on the TV
She’s survived past her friends
The world’s last Sparrow chipping at a bird feeder
Night muffled of its insect thrumming
Mountain creeks hollow of Salmon speckle
She’s like them
A white flag draped over her rocking chair
108 degrees yesterday
112 today
Tomorrow?
Ceiling fan useless against the boil on her stove
Whistling to the empty room
She’s gone to sleep
Steaming
Lid rattling
We will all sleep eternal sleep very soon
Her only son breaks down the door at high noon
Cries alone
At her feet
Swallows the embers of her toes
Crumbles to dust
Himself
In the whirling arms of the unrecorded extinction.
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