A row of shiny pennies lie behind the glass
They glint and gleam
Draw us in
Thick and glowing like the moon in a clear sky
We sit in the guard's chair
He is walking in quiet circles
At peace with his charges
We breathe in the smell of old wood
Run our shoes along the lines of the worn down floor
All the feet that must have passed
All the hands that must have made those pennies shine
So many stories
The pennies sit beside broken bones and butterflies
A pin holds their black bellies to the velvet
So fragile they look as if they will crumble
Time stands still in this place
Arrested
Just like their flight
A clock on the wall tick-tocks
Soon it will be time to leave
The guard will lock the doors
Switch off the lights
We will come back another day
There is a kind of magic
A sense of time both passing and standing still
A museum of curiosity.
I used to love museums but over the years this proud show of human development and achievement has come to appal me. This is especially so when you find that many artifacts on show were stolen from suppressed or undeveloped tribes and nations. Art Galleries are OK though but my legs weary easily! Your description of the museum reminded me much of the Museum in my home town in England many years ago.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine the story those coins would tell if they could. I can see those pinned butterflies, poor things.
ReplyDeleteHappy Wednesday Jae. The fragile passing of time and the legace of future generations, nicely told
ReplyDeleteMuch❤🕊❤love
I like the delicacy of your poem which resembles that soft, mysterious energy that seems to flow between museum walls. At least, I always feel a pause, an almost sacred moment when viewing something preserved from history and art.
ReplyDeleteThat the pennies and the mounted butterflies share museum space is somehow disturbing, as if the curator were saying: "See what death and desolation money has wrought in our world."
ReplyDeleteThere is a kind of magic
ReplyDeleteA sense of time both passing and standing still - oh I love that, Jae.
It’s amazing what an item can evoke when it’s in a museum. Every day we handle coins, to put in the parking meter, pay a fare, buy a coffee, but we don’t think about where they’ve been. In a museum, they conjure up all sorts of stories. I love the way you’ve brought the scene to life, the ‘’row of shiny pennies ...behind the glass’, the cheekiness of sitting in the guard's chair while he walks in quiet circles, the smell of old wood – so many evocative details, Jae, and the thought of ‘all the hands that must have made those pennies shine’. You’ve captured the magic and curiosity beautifully.
ReplyDeleteI so love the scene! Subtle, delicate. I also played on coins in my poem today. The last two lines are absolutely magical!
ReplyDeleteVery interesting take on the prompt I see here. It is not about putting something in a glass box, It’s about doing something special, about creating events where you’re taken on a journey. Lovely composition, Jae .
ReplyDelete