You kissed the little girl
who shares these thick
frames, now clouded
with your skin oil.
Particolored moths,
pinned,
looking the most alive (their
wings are still dusted).
A stuffed kodiak bear,
still hazardous.
Looming,
head-sized paws
stupidly reaching.
Something ceremonial:
a headdress for a wedding...
What implores you to stay here?
I have been here myself
all my life,
her
then me,
like wooden nesting eggs
behind glass.
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