Hang on, stitching together your page...
Him stocking cathnids was a mystery.
When they’re removed from forest or from field
and separated from community
they wither up and die and can’t be healed.
Does Marisand think he can keep them live?
How many cages stacked? At least a dozen.
He maybe hopes that somehow they’ll survive
if put in cages near to all their cousins?
I ask that you not sorrow for the beasts,
but watch and learn the knowledge I impart.
With open mind you’ll find your worries cease.
Let science suture up your bleeding heart.
Observe. I turn this crank, release this clasp…
I wonder, will this be a thing of note
or bright distracting light, diverting blast,
and puff of Marisandic mirrored smoke?