Trilobites

Their ghosts in stone whisper
of scurrying aquatic masses
the long, sensitive feelers,
delicately probing mud.
Shiny of carapace
rows of glittering eyes.
The taste of waters that were full of them
and the beautiful things that gave them chase.


***

Day 6 of NaPo and already there's kind of a lot about ducks and trilobites. Not in the same poem, at least. I don't think I can use 'opabinia', 'anamolocaris' or 'hallucogenia' in a poem; I probably can't get away with 'trilobite' either, really.