New daughter
of an ancestral species,
I cradle extinction
in my cupped hand.
We may disappear
like a language.
In some future
they will hear
echoes of us
in things they say.
We may become
cliché—
enormous clicks
in the clockwork
jaw suspended
above the entryway.
Visitors
to our exhibition
will sense
our presence
in the massive
mandible,
a faint ringing.
This poem first appeared in CALYX 33:2.
—
Kelly Houle’s poetry has been published in CALYX, Crab Orchard Review, Kenyon Review, Radar Poetry, Sequestrum, and other publications. She has recently been named a finalist for the Fischer Prize, the Arts and Letters “Unclassifiable” contest, and the Montreal International Poetry Prize.
