When Your Dinosaur is Pulled from under You

 
Brontosaurus I believe-make you.
I remember you so hard
my memory remakes you.

The curves of your tail
and the mighty sway of your neck
run down the face of me like water.

My feet still know your back,
your neck, your head, your shoulders,
like my mind knows its griefs.
…

 
Once upon a time, there lived a white girl in a black world. No, a beige girl in a brown world. Err, no. Just a girl. In French West Africa. And when she went scouting one day—scouting out this spanking old Africa—she came upon a dinosaur.

A felled tree, really. But a dinosaur.

And it was, of course, a brontosaurus.

(Yes, I know they were a mistake and are supposed to be called apatosauruses now, but how can such glory be a mistake?!! And while I’m at it: Pluto is a planet!)

Back to the story.