I found the place Dora hides her wooden box
where she stores her animal fetish carvings.
The place is in a tree, attached to the back side
of a weathered birdhouse empty for years.
Her box is rosewood, well oiled, embossed
with an orca on the lid and the sky inside on the bottom.
The carved stone animals, it turns out, Dora swallowed
to enhance her plots, schemes and tricks of the eye.
Though that is my interpretation, not hers.
Her intent, absent from a hollow in the air, lacks explanation.
With the sixth mass extinction close at hand,
she plans survival strategies with new creatures
while the last of us, breathless, stare in awe
as they exit her spoken words two by two.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney