Rebecca Perry

Three Poems

Alabaster Baby

Walking from museum to museum
almost crying in each one

in front of an oil painting of a bowl of fruit

in front of a tiny suit of armour

in front of a glass display box of locusts
treading all over each other

in front of a fossilized dinosaur dropping
pink and grey like a cross section of a pork pie
split in two and varnished

in front of a stuffed pygmy marmoset
hugging the smallest branch

in front of a reconstructed typical Tudor kitchen
with taxidermied chickens and plastic bread

in front of hairpins and pots
a beautifully chiseled miniature family
with a glowing baby you can see light through

in front of the cake selection in the café

in front of a mummy with hair on its feet
a sign that says in 1902 it was publicly
unwrapped and the bandages given
to audience members as souvenirs

in front of various instruments for
torture and castration dented with use
an animatronic man cowering in the corner

in front of a series of mosaics
depicting erotic scenes from ancient Rome

in front of a life-size marble effigy
of a girl about my age
her hands forced into prayer
I want to lean in and kiss her cold lips


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