Lauren, Natural History: Philadelphia, 2012

When we first met, she showed me a whale jaw—

tapered as the belly of a boat—before opening

 

the door onto the skull of an elephant who had

killed her trainer. Sockets hollow as sorrow,

 

I never forgot. Our home, too, would be riddled

with moth dust and carpet beetles, dried pipefish,

 

bones waiting to be articulated and identifiable.

Ours was the marriage of fainting goats, shiso,

 

the mating struts of rare birds. Of dissection,

stop-motion, black and white. We shared knives

 

and space and so much spit. We took turns crying

for being touched. Each of us was built to try.

 

 

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