three from the Museum

#1: the museum jungle

the cacophony
of a jungle

I am in amongst

and the taxi-dermed every-creature
that ever moved
around the planet

they are not here
it’s just their bones
and their skin

but children
are squeal-and-calling
in their hundreds

I turn
to the hunt-posed lion
beside me
catch his eye

both of us think
prey pray


#2: in the trenches

in the wartime
the walls
remodel themselves
as you move

woodlands green
out of pock-mud graves
and corpses

nineteen fifteen
into today
seamlessly enough
to confound
your mind and your vision

the narrow trenches
of World War One
are clogged
by the mass
of bodies

of museum soldiers

and war is truly hell
when the only way out
is blocked
by a mother
with a four-wheel-drive

we are all
going to die


#3: the belly of the whale (pigmy blue)

wey-hey wey-hey
I’m looking in the mouth
of a whale

I’ll surrender myself
his baleen
to my krill

filter and wash me
never again
to be seen

wey-hey wey-hey
looking down the barrel
of the whale

© Frank Prem, 2017

July 2017 Poem #12: pure nothing


2 thoughts on “three from the Museum

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