I am fascinated by the story of Lyuba, the baby woollly mammoth discovered in Siberia. Here is a poem I have written for her, and some pictures too.

lyuba

(a baby woolly mammoth preserved in permafrost)
 
on that day
her mother suckled her
(there is milk in the contents
of her gut)

 on that day

her mammoth hair
(strawberry-blond the DNA shows)

grew a little bit more

 
on that day
she sipped water from a stream
(at one month old her trunk was long)

 on that day

she lost her tail
(no trace of it was found)

 we do not know the season

or what time of day it was
when she lumbered onto mud

 nor do we know how long it took

for her to be sucked down

 nor how much mud

she swallowed
as she died

 (there was sediment in her mouth

and in her throat)

 all we know

is on that day
she sank in a bog and life for her
was gone
 

and we’ll never know

if her mother searched or grieved and ached
with unusable milk

 later

on that day