It's Still Life

The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery

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An Afternoon in the Museum

two mummified cats
in a dust-free glass case
smudged with prints of childhood,

and a right hand
in formaldehyde.

I stand there staring
at someone else’s hand,

never mind that mine
is equally miraculous
and still attached,

still warm,

and I wonder how long
those two cats have been dead.

long enough, I decide

suddenly
I am very young,

very calm,

with both hands,
and all my nine lives,

and a long way
from formaldehyde.