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.
I screamed.
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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