Snap.
A warm glow dies and
The room is dusty dark.
Liquid specimens peer out
From their jars.
Creatures freeze mid-pounce.
This curious collection,
This unusual ark
Neatly labeled and sorted.
Cases of Marrakech brown
And panels of wavy,
Worn glass.
Fingering the new pocket watch,
A gift of brushed trinket gold,
He was their Noah.
He no longer needs to know the time.
Skeleton key left on the desk,
A hand on the comforting knob,
He locks the door behind him.
I recently entered a poetry contest, open to the entire college campus where I work. We had to choose a paint chip and use the color names in the poem. My submission won!
When I read the colors on my paint card, I immediately pictured a old-style natural history museum with bell jars and cabinets of stuffed animals. Then something about the pocket watch made me think of a retirement gift, and the man who is reluctant to leave his post looking over the creatures in the museum.