30 december 2020

A MAMMOTH ONCE TOLD ME.

We came back from history,
the mammoth
and me.

I wore its tusks
around my neck, carried
its carcass on my back and left

the memorial
site
of an era.

He is a fossil now.
Heavy,
still.

I couldn’t save him from extinction,
could not preserve one
strand of hair,

the coats and gloves that should’ve kept us
from the frost were just
no match.

I left them
somewhere
on a crystal headland.

So besides residues
I’m empty-handed
and I am scared, no –

Frightened,
better said.
There was blasted ice and bloody hell, but here

we do not see how glaciers
melt so much
they will restore themselves.

The cold
it gets
before

the end.
We wear pink sunglasses,
short skirts,

float pink flamingo’s in our pinkish bathtubs –
We like the heat
of global warming,

we like the smell,
the burn,
the dread. But listen –

Do you hear the cattle bells,
the ten to twelves, the
yells from when our ancestors were begging please,

“to be more careful”?
The mammoth told me this,
my friends,

before it left itself
on Wrangel
forever:

“It was a complex mix of all, I guess.
Humanity,
a virus, cold.

You’re in the same position now,
but I
can not quite rescue you

from that.
Just reassure the last one standing there
that when the

day has come
and deeds are done,
the

man won’t know
that man
is gone.”

– Malon