Gave my daughter, age one
who could draw better than walk
a pad of Post-its, the tiny ones.

She crayon scribbled
peeled each one
to hide in corners
behind books
under the toothpaste tube
inside shoes.

A year later, moving out
cleaning up
I find behind
the clothes dryer
a nest woven with
gatherings of moss
dryer lint
lined by her Post-its
stolen by mice
who appreciate
fresh art.

tell me something
at the end of the summer
how we've spent days
for the warm shadow of jasmine

I'm dumb in common
separated from home
one of the worst romans
in the way of his own

deceit and demise
narcissism and mice
went rumble and bumble
went crimble and crumble

Jesus Christ Almighty!...

     *What?

A mouse ran up my nightie!...

     Ohhh...

He bit my ***!...

     Dear me!

Then ran lickety-split,....

     Where

*Slipping on my ****,

Squeaking for being so naughty.

Imagine a dark room.
No widows. No doors.
You can't get out.
Your arms are spread out before you.
You scrape the walls. You stumble around.
All you have is what you brought with you.
Memories. Your beating heart.

How did you get here?
You don't know.
You can't stop and think.
The panic sets in.
You're freaking out.

You aren't a man of god but you call His name.
Please get me out of this! I will be good I swear!
Nothing. No flashing light . No burning bush.
You are alone.
If there is a God,
he doesn't know your name.

You think you're being watched
the hairs on your neck stand up.
A squeak. A scurry.
Something walks across your toes.
Furry. Small.
And it happens again.
And again.

You scream like a girl.
Things crawl up your pant leg and
across your shoulders and down your shirt.
Squeaking. Furry. Small.
Scampering. Biting.
You spin and jump and cry,
things squash under your feet.
You scream and scream and scream

And then you wake up.
Your sheets are tangled and ran through with sweat.
You need a minute to regain yourself.
It was only a dream
It was only a stupid, stupid dream
The memory of it fades.
It fades to nothing.

you close your eyes.

And you hear a squeak

I hear the scratching in my walls all night
It sounds to sinister it gives me a fright
It could be mice or maybe legions
Of some really ******* ****** demons
I hope it's just my ****** up imagination
Not again, my own damnation
Guess I'll just lay here and wait for the screaming
I've past insane, there's no redeeming