I Might Have Called Her Ivory
That's what they lived for.
The men that hunted me down and shot me in my back.
I felt two shots.
First the bullet, then the boiling ache.
My rough skin shook-poison crawling through it.
Banging their weapons together,
they followed me as I stumbled for miles.
They ran after me. Yelling.
Cheering when my knees finally dragged the dirt.
I pushed, willing my calf to come.
Blood poured from my womb-filled with poison.
One man began hacking at my right tusk.
I closed my eyes to the pain and pushed once more.
I could no longer feel the life inside of me.
No beating except that against my tusks.
I'd always heard you see darkness when death comes.
I saw Ivory.
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