• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Home
  • Mission
  • Masthead
  • Contact & Submit
Epilogue Magazine

Epilogue Magazine

Stories at the end of the world

  • Nonfiction
  • Fiction
  • Poetry
  • Donate

Lament for an Endling

January 17, 2022 By Heather Milligan Leave a Comment

Snow Geese
Migrating snow geese. Photo by Mathew Schwartz
Did fires burn through the last ancient woodland?
Boughs that breathed the air before us,
Reached deep into soil our fingers never touched.

Did another year’s harvest collapse to rot?
Fields empty of corn, barley, wheat, wild things,
Nimble hands to pluck soft fruit.

Did oil slicks stain the sickening seas?
Glaciers’ ghosts rising haunt new shores
And the forests beneath bleached to bone.

When you watched the last tiger pace in her cage
And migrating birds plunge from the sky,
Did they say it was just two degrees?

Did disease edge its way to your lungs, to your brain,
Did exhaust fumes get to you first?
Did you sweat in bed as they piled up the dead

Or breathe the fresh air of before?
Where crickets sing in the undergrowth
And above, a billion wings soar.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • More
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Reddit
  • LinkedIn
  • Print
  • Email

Filed Under: Poetry

About Heather Milligan

Heather Milligan is a doctoral researcher at the University of Edinburgh studying climate fiction and the EcoGothic. Her twitter is @hrmilligan.

Reader Interactions

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Copyright © 2025 · Epilogue Magazine · WordPress · Log in