The moon squeezed
through the door.  

Craters shooting
out at the fridge.  

Cheese was
not to be found.

So the moon
would growl around.

Grey concrete
falling off slowly
while going upstairs.  

Stairs trying
to bite with
each step.  

No one
found at home.  

Mice licking
off its glow while
contracting insomnia.

It didn’t taste
like lemon meringue.

Stars had
abandoned
the moon.

This is what
we’ve found
out too soon.