Mammoth

Quintessential rust constructs,
Discharge the vertebrae’s gristle,
Edifying the sagacity of crippled natures,
Dead whites cast out lines in hope of hooking,
A return in stares,
Cracked glass,
Wheel trim torn,
Clotted mass,
The baby can’t be born,
…today,
Sentences end,
Scratching details ‘cross the oak,
Officer,
As the father coughs out a requiem,
Mother curls a fist around stomach tyres,
Between red and brown fingers tip the edge,
Clutching wildly at the soft white sack,
Now vacant and deflated,
Shaking behind the strap,
A penchant for freedom,
The wheel pours through the chest,
Father wheezes seven times outward,
Six are bloody,
Seven cast out as foul scented air,
The rolling eyes of the typical,
Eyes now totally white,
The veins of the mother’s eyes,
Map out a direct link to the heart,
All those memories,
Her constant complaining,
The requirements of apology,
Hangs high above the pride shelf,
Past, previous, forever,
Officer,
To explain yourself,
Upon the oak pad,
And the necessity,
Of detailed descriptions,
In a report that entails,
You losing everything but yourself.