The room could do nothing
but remain inside the girl.

Here, objects lived
resembling sculptures—
maybe from another culture
that grew extinct
on an island floating in an ocean
or time
before you knew you were looking at them.

You could tell, passing the windows,
that something was formed inside.
Or secreted.

The objects returned your gaze,
or seemed in altered position
when you glanced away
and back.

Some said they changed shape or color
but even photographs
could provide no evidence.

Superstitions grew around them.
A group of peddlers sold their likenesses
while following the girl
from age to age.

No one could learn
the word to touch them.

The girl remained indifferent.