Poems by Hilary Sideris
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Dwarf Elephant
by Hilary Sideris
From Canary Fall 2013
Hilary lives in Brooklyn, near Prospect Park, which lies on a ridge of terminal moraine that used to be under a sheet of ice one thousand feet thick.
To Sicily before Sicilians,
he ambulated at low tide, or
likelier—his kind being born
to snorkel—swam, ten tons
of him, to thrive by shrinkage,
finally to fifty pounds, as per
the island rule: fauna diminish
on an unattached landmass.
Boar-sized, he grazed
on beach grass, played
in sea foam, & could feed
a human tribe for days.
© Hilary Sideris
Litoptern
by Hilary Sideris
From Canary Spring 2013
Neither an even nor
an odd-toed ungulate,
the Litoptern, or simple
ankle, Darwin stumbled
on appeared a cross
between giraffe & camel—
humpless, horse-mouthed.
No speed, no herd could
keep her on the South
American continent,
safe from a saber-toothed
feline who craved
her slender neck’s
sweet underside.
© Hilary Sideris
Passenger Pigeon
by Hilary Sideris
From Canary Summer 2013
Once so numerous on earth,
colossal flocks blocked out
the sun, this slender racer,
clocking sixty miles per hour,
fed on seeds, laid eggs in forests
of savage undergrowth.
Under nests we set fires,
stuffed our pillows with her
plumage, fed her flesh to pigs.
Last seen in the Cincinnati Zoo,
her body let her soul go
on the eve of the Great War.
© Hilary Sideris