Oldest Squirrel Monkey in Captivity

It is impossible not to think of you
as mindful of the body they have

taken, living tribute whose every hour
affirms our genius. Nor to dredge

the muck-strewn lake of your eyes
for evidence of what you have witnessed:

how the ground tipped away from you
as the rocket leapt skyward, the world

reversing itself, cleaving branch from tree,
earth from stone into a wholly separate

being. Returned, you are emeritus,
ornamental, yet luminous as one who is

transfigured, secured in it by what
we might so easily mistake for joy.