by Eric Fisher Stone

…the Passenger Pigeon, passed away on September 1, 1914, in the Cincinnati Zoo. She was believed to be the last living individual of her species.

–Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History

Dying, I become the sky,
whisking from the zoo
and pointing toddler fingers,
my skull hatching a sunset
once dappled with wings
of my kind abundant as grapes.

I need no heaven besides the world,
my companion’s cherry eye glowing
in my dreams. My grief keeps him alive
beyond his death, his song cooing through my brain,
his feathers’ sunflower taste pickled
in memory until sparrows
chirrup my funeral canticle.

I think the last person alive
will weep for whelks,
their feet gummed on pumice,
for squirrels’ manic hands
smaller than a human’s, yet rarer
in the universe than diamonds
or fire. Lions yawp farewells

three exhibits down and emus
like tiptoeing brooms peck goodbyes.
Nurse my warmth in the blood-syllable
of your heartbeat. You will chant
bird-rosaries, mourning the Earth
more precious than paradise
when making love is real.

Eric Fisher Stone is a poet, composition instructor, and PhD student at Oklahoma State University. His publications include three full-length collections of poetry, The Providence of Grass, from Chatter House Press, Animal Joy, from WordTech Editions, and Bear Lexicon, from Clare Songbirds Publishing House. He can be found on Facebook @EricFisherStone and Bluesky @javelinasarecute.bsky.social.