2003-07-10 - 3:17 p.m.
AncestryClutching brown bag lunches,
the children come from dinosaur bones
to stare at wax dummies.
Behind the glass, in a Styrofoam winter,
their ancestors are wrapped in furs,
forever building red light bulb campfires.
Among the children, there’s mild interest,
most of all for the bestial man
who clutches a long and jagged spear
and stares into the poster-paint landscape,
eyes squinting at some distant, predatory howl.
Maybe one child says cool, maybe one
streaks a finger along the glass, before
the teacher prods the class down the corridor,
their footfalls echoing like primitive drums.