now you know that the bird has died

and her wish was to preserve it somehow

that was yesterday

she had balanced it on a cotton reel, you know the old wooden ones with red thread.

this balancing thing

started years ago

in childhood, a game. later life a habit, a meditation.

she watched others, the artists balancing stones

copied , then balanced all sorts, soaps. boxes, anything really.

perhaps it is a control thing she supposed as she balanced the bird.

today

it stays easily. she looks a long time, takes her phone

and photographs.

looks, looks

adds objects.

photographs .

waits for dusk, for the light to change

lowers and photographs. a different app and repeat

another photograph.

skulls .

there are a lot of skulls down here in the studio. a few any way. she is prone to her own excitement and exaggeration.

bird skulls found, placed, kept, some  under glass domes.

her father had done that now she follows his lead.

she remembers the time he had placed a mouse corpse under a bell jar to see how that worked

he was dismayed at the decay and mildew; the stench when he lifted that jar.

his experiment a failure.

she feels it is a still life.