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scraps

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  • Capybara

    UNIT OF MEASURE
    by Sandra Beasley

    All can be measured by the standard of the capybara.
    Everyone is lesser than or greater than the capybara.
    Everything is taller or shorter than the capybara.
    Everything is mistaken for a Brazilian dance craze
    more or less frequently than the capybara.
    Everyone eats greater or fewer watermelons
    than the capybara. Everyone eats more or less bark.
    Everyone barks more than or less than the capybara,
    who also whistles, clicks, grunts, and emits what is known
    as his alarm squeal. Everyone is more or less alarmed
    than a capybara, who—because his back legs
    are longer than his front legs—feels like
    he is going downhill at all times.
    Everyone is more or less a master of grasses 
    than the capybara. Or going by the scientific name,
    more or less Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris—

    or, going by the Greek translation, more or less
    water hog
    . Everyone is more or less
    of a fish than the capybara, defined as the outermost realm
    of fishdom by the 16th-century Catholic Church.
    Everyone is eaten more or less often for Lent than
    the capybara. Shredded, spiced, and served over plantains,
    everything tastes more or less like pork
    than the capybara. Before you decide that you are
    greater than or lesser than a capybara, consider
    that while the Brazilian capybara breeds only once a year,
    the Venezuelan variety mates continuously.
    Consider the last time you mated continuously.
    Consider the year of your childhood when you
    had exactly as many teeth as the capybara—
    twenty—and all yours fell out, and all his
    kept growing. Consider how his skin stretches
    in only one direction. Accept that you are stretchier
    han the capybara. Accept that you have foolishly
    distributed your eyes, ears, and nostrils
    all over your face. Accept that now you will never be able

    to sleep underwater. Accept that the fish
    will never gather to your capybara body offering
    their soft, finned love. One of us, they say, one of us,
    but they will not say it to you.

    —
    One of my favorite poems, originally featured in Poetry Magazine, as well as the central creature, fashioned into darling brooches from Made by White.

    Posted on September 12, 2011 ()

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