Empire Cinema

In the archives,
old scripts and ledgers.
Drawers full of brass coins,
beautiful bones of fish.

Papery vertebrae, papyrus 
of skins. Which slot is ours
in the collapsible index?
Reels of sepia

nestled in velvet boxes.
The camera focuses: 
rippling mountain edges
armoring hunters' chests.
The longest running show—
if we stay it's because we 
want to check that our names 
appear in the credits.

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