History of Truths
There was once a coastal backwater
where this Kansas cow pasture is today
is the first stanza of Saturday’s musing
at the packed nature and science museum.
It’s startling how even in the crowd
a quiet infiltrates the ears to turn
my baobab upside down, which is
actually right side up. It’s in this state—
with monkey bread severed from
millennial branches and the K-T boundaries
of my life in exhibits all around (i.e., pipe
tomahawk rusted with resin and blood)—
that the fantasy of jackalopes truly
hits home, like the closed door of finally
knowing whether we’re alone
in this universe or not—it’s part
euphoria, a little uneasiness, but mostly
a whist for this place to be a sea again.
