Christine Macfarlane
Irish Elk and Other Extinctions concerns itself with the precarious and ever-changing nature of life on this planet. In poems which consider everything from melting glaciers to recycling, and the Age of Enlightenment to possible life on the moon, we are taken on a journey of what is and what might be possible. In a cast including snails and salamanders, nuns and lobster fishermen, we see how existence is unpredictable, but amongst the comings and goings, new things will always rise up, and sometimes all is not lost.Irish Elkmegaloceros giganteusWhat did he think, the hunter who first saw you?Was he stunned at your towering headgear? Antlerswider than his cave. Did he fear your great height,so much taller than himself? Perhaps he gave chasebut unable to outpace you, returned to his cave,drew on the walls in ochre and charcoal, recordedyour red-gold hide, black collar and chinstrap,dark hump on your withers - those vast antlers.Did you starve trying to scavenge enough to regrowthe massive headpiece each year? A maladaptation?Breeding females were thought to favour bucks withwidest horns. I picture a chase through dense woodshear the crash and clatter, see branches fly beforeyour great head is locked tight among the trees;hear bellows of pain, laboured breath as you strain,struggle and die from exhaustion in pursuit of love.I can only imagine your enormous elegance,think of herds that ranged through thinly-woodedgrassland from Ireland to the shores of Lake Baikal,stopping to graze the sedge, grass or browse onleaves of spruce and willow. Winter, and your warmbreath melted the snow as you dug in search of food.Your giant lips tore softly at spring herbs and flowers.Now only your bones are left to wonder at.
