Taxidermy

The moodlit corridors
of the stuffed fish and reptile wing
are full of leathery gulpers
gazing snaggletoothed through glass,
bulbous eyed, slack jawed,
cameras slung around their necks
like purses of shark eggs.

A bald man stares at a tortoise.
A fey father at a seahorse.
A meathead in a vest
scratches at his groin,
nodding respectfully at a swordfish.
A cast-iron grandma with leashed kids
at her ropey heels eyeballs
the glassy eyeballs of a crocodile.

In the distance, Spanish tourists
skitter past cases of hummingbirds.
The guard by the bears scowls.
The lights of the corridor flicker
as a one man mountain
lumbers from the hall of whales.