I want to love my own history with this taxidermic beauty, like snake ribs, pinned butterflies and dinosaur scales. I want to meet my loss with the same awe as I did that dead gorilla, stuffed full of might. I want to share the same dead gaze of recognition. Then you can make fun of my tears, of how much you love me, as we stumble out into the sun and back to the living. We tumble over one another like otters, clingy as monkeys, forgiving as tortoises and mighty as apes.We learn ourselves again. Veins aren’t paths leading you away. Scenery doesn’t split us. We’re fossilised into one another, imprinted. We’ll fly our migratory patterns across train tracks and leave each other hairs, plectrums and used pants to pose in our museum of missing.