The Poacher's Dream
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4/20/2025 for Ghost of Frankenstein Poetry Contest sponsored by Tom Woody
"I dismounted, seated myself on an eminence, and began to mark with my pencil, making a dot for every flock that passed. In a short time finding the task which I had undertaken impracticable, as the birds poured in in countless multitudes, I rose and, counting the dots then put down, found that 163 had been made in twenty-one minutes"
~ John Jacob Audobon, on the passenger pigeon
The poacher, fat, rich, and happy, drifted off to sleep.
He heard a bird in mourning, as eternally, she did weep.
Her name was Martha. She died in a Cincinatti zoo.
"I'm the last passenger pigeon, and I'm coming back for you,
and here is someone dear I'd like for you to meet."
Qiqi, the last Baiji River dolphin then did entreat,
"I was once called the Goddess of the Yangtze River.
I have a task for you, evil beast, and you must deliver."
"And I'm the last Western Black Rhino, without a name,
and what you'll do for money is a crying shame.
You used me for my horn, and left me in a field,
you repugnant creature, whose heart has congealed.
You must protect the earth for every living thing,
for every water dweller, for each bird on the wing,
for each antelope and zebra, grazing on the grasses,
don't let us cook like steaks in your greenhouse gasses.
If you fail in this endeavor, humans, too, will die.
As I pin you with my horn, look up at the sky,
as a hundred-million passenger pigeons swoop
and cover you in a massive mountain of poop,
and dire wolves chew playfully on your bones.
This is what will become of you, if you don't atone.
But don't worry, we can bring you back, with chimp DNA,
and you can walk the earth again like Frankenstein one day."
The poacher woke, disturbed, troubled, and in fear.
Do you think he'll ever change as he reaches for his beer?
Copyright © David Crandall | Year Posted 2025
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