Extinction is the sound of change

Jingling into a cash drawer

The whispered "checkmate" of an ivory king

It is the smell of exotic perfumes

And the taste of powdered rhino horn

An aphrodesiac for desperate men

In alligator boots

Extinction is also the sound of a chainsaw

Gnawing through a jungle

It is the sting of smoke in your eyes

When a brush fire burns a clearing

Or the bitter taste of acid in the rain

Finally, it is the rumble of heavy equipment

Felt first in your feet and last in your heart

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Gerald Rinks's picture

This is a clever, but all too true piece of poetry. One part of the world is trying to preserve what we have and the other is killing it as fast as the demand arises. Nicely spoken and pointed. At least there are other things now available besides Rhino horn powder.