literature

Mammoth

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salshep's avatar
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Literature Text

You're on the lawn, pickled
as a paper-bag philosopher, mouth full
of copper and oxidised vinegar—

eyes oystering ant-sand and your cheeks wet
as the tracks of unhappy snails.
It's almost dawn, it's cold. The bastard

left you, and you've fallen over
in the garden coming up the path to home.
By morning, frost crackles

across the black hump of your back -
soon you'll be glaciered to the grass,
face iced to your coat-sleeve,

and the great, frozen spectacle
of you will grind its way, ten inches a year,
toward the porch. Some day

they'll discover you, the remains
of dandelions stuck in your teeth, fresh
as ten thousand years ago.
true story

published in The Flea, March 2011

you may notice differences in the final lines

this is because I am a flibbertigibbet and cannot make up my mind
© 2007 - 2024 salshep
Comments24
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hell-on-a-stick's avatar
perhaps a period at the end of the second stanza. In the garden, kind of hangs out there without much to say. the rest is epic. even though it's been used as a metaphor before, youve got your own voice ringing clearlyhere.