Tusk for Tusk by Nadia Gerassimenko

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tusk for Tusk 

 

In your house of ivory

you’ve already forgotten—

we’ll never forget:

 

Silence but the leaves

rustling as we stretched

for fruit. Sun bathing
us in soft light. Us 

together, a herd, 

a family—

idyll.   

 

Until firearms ricocheted

hitting Mia, killing Yasmin.

Blood trailed as we scampered

bellowing in fear / ire / pain.

Losing some to gunshots,

others to oblivion. 

 

You laughed and cheered
for a moment, forgotten 

for eternity.

But our tears never dry,

they never left this ground.

 

Roles reversed

and it would be you

on the ground bloodied,
breathless.

 

It would be your kin

weeping salt water—

life never the same,
emptied.  

 

There would be

uproar / revolution

against a crime
against humanity
to celebrate and
mourn your life. 

 

Who will mourn us?
Who will fight for us?

 

Every year we go back

to the crimson trail.

It’s silent but the leaves

rustling as we stretch

for fruit. Sun bathes us

in soft light. Us not all
together, less a herd,
less a family—still
grieving / raging. 

 

 

 

Nadia Gerassimenko is the founding editor of Moonchild Magazine, associate editor at Luna Luna Magazine, and proofreader at Red Raven Book Design. She is a freelancer in editorial services by trade, a poet and writer by choice, a moonchild and nightdreamer by spirit. 

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