THE FROGMORE POETRY PRIZE 2007

  Michael Read
DREAM MUSEUM
 

The live stegosaurus
(or is it a vast beam-engine
pumping its oiled shafts?)
fills the atrium.

In the right gallery, portly Bacchus
careers after Ariadne,
spilling grapes and vinous breath
over astonished tourists.

To the left, the Wright brothers
orbit the geological globe
while the mummies
gravely look on.

But this is the strange part:
climb the marble stairs,
feel the edge of wrought iron
in your palm.

Among the empty cases
in a long room, musty
and smelling of polish,
one threadbare tableau:

a wildcat, frozen in turning,
caught forever in small fierceness.

You lock eyes.


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