The Dodo

By LESLIE MCGRATH

 

When she sheds
her last moony
red potential
a woman sheds
also obligation
(insert obligation
elsewhere)
fading from
lure to lore.

Thus woman
disappears twice.

The dodo’s gone.
Too lame to fly
too plentiful
to protect too
delicious to deny.

When the dodo
could no longer
be found on
Mauritius

Evidence
of extinction
say naturalists.

Evidence only
of disappearance
says woman.

 

Leslie McGrath is the author of three full-length poetry collections, Feminists Are Passing from Our Lives; Opulent Hunger, Opulent Rage; and Out from the Pleiades. She has been called “an oral historian of the alienated” by poet-critic Grace Cavalieri. Winner of the Pablo Neruda Prize for Poetry and the Gretchen Warren Award from the New England Poetry Club, her poems and interviews have been published by AGNI, the Academy of American Poets, The Writer’s Chronicle, and The Yale Review.

[Purchase Issue 19 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

The Dodo

Related Posts

Sasha Burshteyn: Poems

SASHA BURSHTEYN
The slagheap dominates / the landscape. A new kurgan / for a new age. High grave, waste mound. / To think of life / among the mountains— / that clean, clear air— / and realize that you’ve been breathing / shit. Plant trees / around the spoil tip! Appreciate / the unnatural charm! Green fold, / gray pile.

New York City skyline

Lawrence Joseph: New Poems

JOSEPH LAWRENCE
what we do is // precise and limited, according to / the Minister of Defense, // the President / is drawing a line, // the President is drawing / a red line, we don’t want to see 

rebecca on a dock at sunset

Late Orison

REBECCA FOUST
You & I will grow old, Love, / we have grown old. But this last chance // in our late decades could be like the Pleiades, winter stars seen by / Sappho, Hesiod & Galileo & now by you & me.