What Dinosaurs Know – a poem by Sayuri Ayers

What Dinosaurs Know
From the soft gray nest
of his bed, my son shines
a flashlight into 
snowflakes whirling
outside. Galaxies of 
glow-in-the dark stars gather
above him. As he presses
his face into velvet
folds of a stuffed 
brontosaur, he waits
for me to dim 
the hallway lights,
to kiss him good-night. 
As he nods off to sleep, 
my son asks if 
dinosaurs saw
the streaking comet,
if they knew that
they were dying. I imagine
peering into shrouds
of smoke and soot,
an ancient beast craning
towards the bleary
stars. Darkness 
presses down
on propped pillows,
slopes of comforters.
I reach to caress 
the gentle wave
of my son’s brow,
my leaning body suspended 
in the hallway light’s
amber glow. 

Sayuri Ayers explores everyday spiritual experiences in her poetry and prose. A Pushcart and Best of Net Nominee, her work is forthcoming in SWWIM Every Day and Parentheses Journal. Please visit her at sayuriayers.com.  

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