"Witnesses" by Romie Stott © 2026

we gather cage-side

to watch the barely breathing beast,

glasses in our hands

ready to clink

in reminder

that we are still breathing,

still able to taste

what soured long before

it reaches our tongues

cameras ready to capture

the moment when the last

African Forest Elephant topples

from life’s platform,

a slow collapse of legs

to dirt, a muddle of grey

that leeches one line of history

across the other-than-forest floor

we count minutes

in jokes and long silences,

watching the heart monitor pulse

while we dine on the lingering soul

of surf and turf.

celebrations are tricky

businesses requiring the right dash

of revelry to season soberness

monogrammed napkins

holding hors d’oeuvres

say Be At Peace.

it was bad taste

to put Forgive Us

where we wipe our mouths

when it finally happens

we are both relieved and dismayed.

we open the cage

and circle the body,

repelled by a miasma

we call respect.

we ask absolution

from the corpse

that witnessed conservation

when it was bouncing baby,

barely able to wail in protest

against a wooden breast

there are burdens earth refuses

to hold.

instead of burial, it rots publicly

to a shrine of brightened bones.

the people come

to pay respect, to seek,

to pray, to mourn,

to worship

we tell ourselves never

again. force ourselves

to remember how it felt

to see a mystery go cold.

but there is only so long

we can stare at the dead

before seeing our future

in the grimace

of shrinking flesh

so we discuss the décor

and menu for the next gathering.

check the cages

of the Red Wolf, Axolotl,

Mountain Gorilla, Monarch Butterfly…

ask in tones that mimic death rattles,

which one looks the most

like last year’s model.

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from Kit Stubbs, Ph.D. during our annual fundraiser.]