She was the last queen, the last  
of the megafauna our ancestors overhunted  
out of the same cellular panic  
 
that drives us to stockpile  
toilet paper when we see  
a snowflake on the weatherwoman’s map. 
 
Maybe this is also what feeds  
our nostalgia for kings  
and keeps fascist leaders in rotation. 
 
Visitors regularly mistake her for 
a colossal ostrich  
with hips like a Victorian hoop skirt. 
 
But this ten-foot, thousand-pound bird 
is cousin to the kiwi— 
two feet tall, five pounds, tiny wings 
 
it cannot fly with. Bones thick  
with marrow. Loose feathers  
patterned like fur for camouflage.  
 
During times of stress,  
making ourselves small  
can feel like the most natural way to survive.  
 
To her right, encased in glass,  
is a melon-sized elephant bird  
egg. The sign reads: 
 
DNA can be extracted from eggshells.  
One day, scientists hope  
to restore this wonder to our world. 
  
The glint in her marmalade eye says  
think twice, mammal-brains. Good luck  
on your elephant-bird-less planet.