Eras

Like the time
I fell backwards
to hit my head in the museum –

I still dislike seeing dead things
reproduced for my amusement.

I stopped crying for the old man,
thankful for his understanding,
and the tears commenced again
as soon as he left.

A child’s education
is seeing a corpse inside a
glass case.

An adult’s education
is facing Death
writ on the ceiling.

The search for a seam
between this sky
and another,
will spin me anti-clockwise,
anti-time;
I look for spaceships.

The tragedy of the dodo is
that it was naïve,
perhaps well-meaning.

But I can not read the minds of these stuffed birds
which fill the room.

3 thoughts on “Eras

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