Copihue Poetry

Guggenheim NY

i want to stay seated
here in this chair
at the museum
at rush hour
as the visitors’ voices
hold hands
and dance, their steps
like the pigeons outside
who at the same time take flight
like the whoosh of a whirring
light

i want to sleep in this chair
underneath a skylight
as night falls

i’ll sleep in front of the ballerinas
dressed in blue and yellow
preparing for their scene
unbothered,
leaning on the scenery
fixing their shoes and pants
stretching their ankles