By Alec Rawls © 1998.

Paleontology:  a detective story 
(From the diary of Dr. R.L. Stevenson, 11/23/2097)

A beast from our mythology, 
The Lovosaurus Rex,
Became says anthropology, 
The Bunkosaurus next.

I heard the archaeologist
Relating what he'd found.
The Lovosaurus Rex, it seems,
Too well had stood its ground.

Feet unearthed were stuck in stone.
Flesh was withered to the bone.
Sloping back and hanging head
Is how I hear they found one dead.

How could such a thing have happened?
How so still when once impassioned?
What could slow and cease to beat
That fired a forge of such great heat?

I sit and ponder what I know
But fear to reap what knowledge sows:
That Love would fight if it was war,
That what love ceased
Was to implore.

But how could Bunkosaurus win
What Lovo was denied?
In what peculiar circumstance
Did Bunko come to thrive?

The Clunkosaurus of this time
Is seen the same in any clime.
He looks astute, although he's mute.
A source of fame, this pantomime?

Another clue I put in place.
A brace of comets fell from space.
They shook the Earth and all its ways.
Undid in one, God's seven days.

Oh what a dread and darksome day.
The more I see I turn away ...
That love had grown in openness
Till comets rained their mindlessness
And all that once was shared was lost,
The heart one knew amongst the cost.

Appearances became the judge. 
He was strong who wouldn't budge.

When Lovosaurus' heart would lift,
When Lovo made his hopes a gift,
The maid had learned by rule of thumb
That what was offered she should shun,
That each would win the best one could,
That who was eager lower stood.

So Eve would dream of Bunkosaurus,
Grand and fine above the chorus.
Never was her heart so sure
As when that placid brow was pure.
Didn't Lovo prove her quest?
If she's so good she'll win the best.

Another Lovo was no fool.
He knew of females to be cruel.
He hurt and scorned his own true Eve.
He taught the lessons she'd believe.

I see how now to make good sense
Of one last myth that lost me hence.
I think in fact I'll make it me
And cast my love not to the sea
But take this gold that I called mine,
Return the Rhinegold to the Rhine,
Throw the chains of love aside
And love unchained 
My own true bride.
				The End


To learn about the author, check out: The Strange Case of Dr. R. L. Stevenson


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Date Last Modified: 8/27/99
Copyright Alec Rawls © 1998