the spine in the bible of things to be admired, but not collected

There is something whispering at me from the corner
Crackling through the air
electro-shocking my senses
kissing my cheek with its eyelashes but disappearing
before I can turn my head.
If I managed to turn a half second sooner
I might grasp it.
I could conquer and crush it into dust
and I would be sated.
Or I might pin down its torso and wings and examine them under glass in full light.
And they might die
but at least I would know them then
fully
And even as the air around me grew stale
I would have the comfort of retention

Or I could lie still
Watch the cold air wash over my fever
as I accept foreign ideas of unattainability
Find the beauty in wanting and being without
Perhaps there is benefit
in tasting only briefly.