The Taxidermist

He likes his wildlife
stuffed and mantled
Glory seconds
like frozen food

He deconstructs the world
works alone in used parts
faint smell of dead things
even in the deep freeze,
it's unmistakable

When he's done crying
he resurrects
only what you see
even to the flick of head feathers
the glint in an eagle's eye

They will never move again
never feel the rush of air
under wing, scent of a mate
the manic verb hunger

Slow, patient, quill by quill
He is a lover of silk
the mathematics of form
a reader of articulations

The evidence of his art
proud clean birds
perfect eyes and stance
I feel him

up under my skin
with Plaster-of-Paris fingers
He sweats through my pores
quick eyes searcn.

His mind asks
how to freeze that flawless
rhythm of biology
the colour of lived chemistry

I came here to learn about form
nine flight feathers
five secondary feathers
four types of wings-

but find motive more
compelling.
What it is to gut
the object of one's affection.

Carmel Williams 2006
Parkholme