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DylanEvensonPoems
In the house they sit on the shelf Never touched left alone We sit there as they fix ourself Ourself that is we We that represent the clone The clone of the wild To look as if we are free We who aren't mothers hold a child The child isn't ours ours that we don't own How I wish we could flee Flee from the chains we are kept Wishing we could go back to life We who have cried and wept Living this life as taxidermy The menagerie is rife We who have glass eyes and full of stuffing Those they had found layed dead and left A fur that had time spent repeatedly fluffing These glass eyes can not shed a tear Our lives that have been completely bereft
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Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 12:03 PM UTC
The Menagerie
In the house they sit on the shelf Never touched left alone We sit there as they fix ourself Ourself that is we We that represent the clone The clone of the wild To look as if we are free We who aren't mothers hold a child The child isn't ours ours that we don't own How I wish we could flee Flee from the chains we are kept Wishing we could go back to life We who have cried and wept Living this life as taxidermy The menagerie is rife We who have glass eyes and full of stuffing Those they had found layed dead and left A fur that had time spent repeatedly fluffing These glass eyes can not shed a tear Our lives that have been completely bereft
This poem talks about how taxidermied animals might feel, and it uses the format of ABACB which is also a quintain. The menagerie is a large collection of animals, or taxidermy.
#taxidermy
Written by
DylanEvenson
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 12:03 PM UTC
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