The Museum of Everything There Ever Was On Earth
The most popular exhibit is Time.
Endless rooms of endless clocks,
ticking to an archaic cadence.
there are timers for wars that happened,
and countdowns for apocalypses that didn’t.
Bold forms of immortal life try to comprehend
a world limited by such small numbers,
pretending they know what it feels like to be finite.
Another favorite is Humans.
It weaves around the museum like a path,
inserting its history into other parts of everything,
as most humans feel inclined to do.
There are people who are barely people yet,
thick-boned and walking on all fours,
and those who spoke in grunts and art,
and those who learned to hunt and build homes,
and those who made music and laughter,
and those who made technology and science,
until those with guns and bombs took it all away,
and once more people were barely people.
Curators fought for a floor dedicated to maps.
Replicas float in the air,
available for people to pull down.
They don’t care about the locations
of planets, which countries have risen and fallen,
or how to navigate a trail;
everyone knows the stars
like the backs of their hands.
They jump to reach the archived papers,
and imagine it’s the same texture as the real ones in glass cases,
the last of the universe’s trees.