poem || Jeff Harrison

In The Museum

Antarctic fidelity to
mere sequential scaffolding
in the museum

in the museum
fakes wake up & accept the duel
the original order of these events
is not always easy to find, still
Alexander Pushpin pays his respects to
revolving refutations, specious boulevards,
a collection of marvels buried in the ground -
in the museum
 
in the museum
prearranged words have been dispatched in
a number of books, chance them, Alex, not in
part, was it you who was leaving horses wrapped
in furs on the steps?
 
in the museum, Alex Pushpin
recalls a Mark Twain novel where
after every hymnal verse, scamps
mutter the words "under the covers"

in the museum the giftshop
would elsewhere
be known as the Lost & Found
 
in the museum
is where I'll finally win your heart,
Mrs. Back Money Muses!

in the museum, yes,
Mr. Black Honey Moses!

in the museum, whoa,
the Thousand-God shoulder
is forever a shining house

in the museum
you can see the same thing twice

in the museum
stands a guard who will not
let me see the Monets unless
I intone the words "ivory closing
waters hungering cheeks glow"

in the museum
they will set your shirtsleeves to music

in the museum
it's puzzle time for everybody