I am six. I am looking at your teeth.
I am calculating the volume
of your excavator jaw.
They have stripped you, chipped the stone
from your naked frame, unsheathed you
from feathers or scales. Leaving this skull
with holes I could put my hand through.
Unshielded from the wind and the din
of this crane–necked crowded room.
I am thinking of being inside you.
Plucked from the ground with serrated tongs
and swallowed. I am not thinking of pain.
Pressure, yes. The loss of breath,
the darkness and heat of you.
I would die of fear. But your jaws
are round and strong and I am small
and I want to crawl inside.
I will be old and never realize
why I crave an armor made of razor bones.
Why I am hungry for men with teeth.
Only a tyrant, the fiercest of monsters,
could ever contain me.
(Editors’ Note: “Million–Elegies: Tyrannosaurus” is read by Erika Ensign in the Uncanny Magazine Podcast Episode 12B.)
© 2016 by Ada Hoffmann