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Shopping for T-Rex

When I was eight years old, someone took me
to see the dinosaurs

at the museum. We were going down
a spiral staircase, glass cylinder

at the center with a T-Rex

inside. I leaned out, tried
to see its toes below, the cables. But this is how

I really remember it: part of me
is standing on the other side

of the spiral. I can see the skull
and that clamp of a jaw, the teeth

stripped to nothing but bone, no marrow, and I can see myself
leaning forward, looking down. If not for my palms

pressed white against the glass, it would appear
as if I were leaning against

the muzzle, figuring out
how to fall.


McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana, where she teaches composition at Indiana University South Bend. She recently received her MFA in Poetry from Western Michigan University, where she worked as the Layout and Design Editor for New Issues Poetry and Prose. Her poems have recently appeared in Encore Magazine, Sleet Magazine, Rogue Agent, and Analecta; and her book reviews have appeared on The Rumpus. For more, visit


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