In a bio sci lab
I watch Valerie take moose shit out of the grow chamber,
and slides from beside it.

Putting the slide on the electronic microscope,
she lets me look through and see
the black spots on the sample in front of me
where fungus absorbing feces
become ferric red and bright pink
when scaled to the proper size.

Here, in a room edged with bees nests, ore samples,
machinery that is alien, no books,
just information on what will kill,
the moose is reduced from majesty to waste.

I ate moose two days ago, processed into sausage,
on a pizza at her brothers house,
while sitting on the edge of the room.

now that I think of it,
the meat was as pink as that slide
artificial, human, easier to see.

that pink marks us as humans,
producers, consumers.
and then in the back of my mind

I remember two years ago
galumphing thru city streets,
a friend called me pink moose.

like that sausage,
like microscoped samples.
like any other human.