Dinosaurs Abandoned by the Ark

They say our tails will splinter 
the floorboards and hang the lions. 

Our heads will pierce through 
the stories and disturb the hornets’ nest

in the cobwebbed attic. They say we are 
too large, too fearsome for the ark 

and the next world. Our spines look 
too much like mountain ranges. They will 

remind the owls of their home, 
and our claws will deceive the lambs 

into thinking there are snakes. 
There is no room left other than 

a death sentence. We are chained to a cave 
of endless night. Perhaps, this is what it is

to have the gods turn a blind eye, to bleed
and have nobody tend to a wound

large enough to consume each
manic star. So be it. Let the doors slam 

on our scaly heads. Let us slow dance and make
the heavens so envious, they send an asteroid 

to execute us sinners. While we’re at it, 
let us love this fire-veiled stone,

the way a mermaid lusts after the hull of a ship. 
Let us be erased and unwritten from the shores 

of memory—only to resurface millions of years later, 
such that the humans of tomorrow will hang 

our bones in museums and see our dusted glory.
Gods of bygone ages, preserved in halls 

larger than the rooms that locked us out.