I need the knowledge
of my place on a planet,
or maybe I just need a love letter,
something naming me.
Did the dinosaurs bury their bones
for us to find, to dig up something
to name? My son knew every one,
had hard rubber versions he’d bring
in the car, invent worlds of before
in the backseat. How sturdy they were.
And his little legs, those, too.
We are all sturdy
on the earth.
Say each name.
Name the names.
Hold the bones.
I promise you,
we were here.