Elegy as palaeontology

Your spine curved in a bony fan of spikes and nubs pushing out the thin cotton you sewed into a nightgown twenty years ago. Bent in a C, creaking, my stegosaurus lean

mother, I miss you

past extinction. Far north of the Chicxulub crater, my brain cools into the size and shape of a crooked stick. Asteroid and iridium yield theme parks: the overrated anthropocene.