Academy of Natural Sciences
Katherine Fallon
The dioramas, some the size of a tractor-trailer,
are full of animals killed on safari in the name
of education—encased in arsenic, sealed for good,
intended to need no intervention. There is a call,
then, for glaziers before you can interrupt
in a HAZMAT suit to dust century-old wax leaves
with soft-bristled brushes. Though you are by nature
ginger, some leaves snap and you never forgive
yourself. In penance, you suffer strangers pointing
at you like you are the animal and so begin to feel
that way. I am guilty. In the beginning, I, too,
came to see, to sit among the articulated standstill
and watch you in plate glass reflections.
You, rare as a shot thing. You, as quietly wild.
In all that glass-eyed deadness, I was truly able,
truly willing. Your painted stars convinced me.
Katherine Fallon is the author of The Toothmaker's Daughters (Finishing Line Press, 2018). Her poems have appeared in AGNI, Colorado Review, Juked, Meridian, Foundry, and Best New Poets 2019, among others. She shares domestic space with two cats and her favorite human, who helps her zip her dresses.