The taxidermist is telling a story
With this frozen fur behind glass,
Teeth bared. Claws out. Back high.
That was on purpose, right?
The thing was dead already
When it arrived.
The instructions required that it look
Fierce, dangerous, even deadly
In order to be more of a monument
To the hunter’s superiority.
We don’t stuff our dogs, or cats,
And never guinea pigs.
It’s not nice to make a trophy
Of the ones we love.