I buried them in a shallow grave
outside the sunroom where their cage hung
rain washed their bones into a deep earth cellar
Where I descend by night with my lone candle
to find them fixed in strata, yet not fixed
scaled claws striking Jurassic dragonflies
*My shadow flickers and dissolves
as I sit at the sunroom desk
Tiny scaled claws strike my head
Pinioned dervishes scold:
My suit of black and white feathers
my smooth hands and my scientist's smirk
my two-finger typing and opposable thumbs
my missing wings and manifesting teeth*
We dinosaurs live on, incantations of ancestral rebirth
templates used, discarded, and used again
as our sphere cycles on, now warming, now cooling
the uniforms change, the costumes evolve
but the sudden-death scrimmage is eternal.