bat specimen 

i go to the taxidermy forest to look
for a way to sleep. there are bats playing
banjos & bats in vampire clothes & bats 
so small they should be toys.
the head of a deer laughs at a joke
from three hundred years ago. it has
taken him this long to learn what is funny.
it will probably take me just as long. 
there are people who think birds are not real
but i know they are. have seen the needle man
placing them in the trees. i prefer the ones
mounted in flight. i want my dead living
& my living dead if you know what i mean.
i hope someone is brave enough to put me here
when i am gone. give me marble eyes 
& let me refuse my rot. the forest smells
like carpets & leather. meat scent
of a real shoe. there are hunters with
bulletless guns who point their barrels 
at us lingering creatures. i find a bed without
anyone in it. take that as an invitation
to try & sleep. behind my eyelids everything
is loud & terrifying. they say that dreams
are our way of working out the horrors.
mine get vivid. get bloody. i prefer
the stuffed museum version of my life
where we've all had more time to think.
without loud noises except for the occasional scream
of a bear who has just realized he is naked 
& it is to late to be a clothed creature.