tapping into-

There are fences, wires, electric

light fixtures and alarms;

invisible sound waves and

pulsing energies

that placate bodies,

our minds made useless

in the packing noise. 

at the museum

I am called Misko by

my dead mother like feathers

on a furtive animal-bird.

The kind that rolls in underbrush

like it can’t fly

but it can fly in a flapping beat.