Flesh Made Flesh - a story in Michel Faber's collection The Fahrenheit
Twins. Thank god for remembering that! Many thanks for all
suggestions...
>
> > Date: Mon, 30 Jun 2008 21:29:54 +0100
> > From: [log in to unmask]
> > Subject: Taxidermy
> > To: [log in to unmask]
>
> >
> > It is not a poem but as all is quiet perhaps someone can help.
> >
> > I am struggling to recall the name of a novel? short story? probably
> > low-brow featuring a rich taxidermy collector who aspires to bigger
> > and bigger subjects and finally a human. All I can remember is a Hard
> > Times kind of milieu, the reluctant but needy taxidermist, a thunder
> > storm, the sweaty imperfectly preserved collection, an accident
> > ...Poe? I don't think so.
> >
> > As this is not a poetry query I offer this poem by Billy Collins to
> > give it some semblance of relevance...
> >
> > Forgetfulness
> >
> >
> > The name of the author is the first to go
> > followed obediently by the title, the plot,
> > the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
> > which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
> > never even heard of,
> >
> > as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
> > decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
> > to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
> >
> > Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
> > and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
> > and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
> >
> > something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
> > the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
> >
> > Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
> > it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
> > not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
> >
> > It has floated away down a dark mythological river
> > whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
> > well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
> > who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
> >
> > No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
> > to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
> > No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
> > out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
> >
> > Billy Collins
> >
> > *******************************
> >
> >
> > atb
> >
> > Bridget
>
>
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