Museum Piece: A Poem For Day 9 of National Poetry Month

Museum Piece

He asks if I am
The curator here.

I say no
I am merely one
Of the exhibits
With certain delusions
Of aesthetic relevance

As the lights go into
Power save mode
And the last tour group
Of children take their 
Flattened pennies home
He eyes me suspiciously

He knows I lied.

I am the curator here.



Pin It