She is a tiny thing at first,
a mouse that crawls
through holes in walls,
eluding baits of midnight
phone calls that
I know will vanish
as the distance
grows between us.
I know she’s there,
that little mouse.
She leaves footprints
through distraction,
drops shoes in rooms
I’ve long abandoned
because they once
contained your shadow.
Sleep eludes me
as that mouse
starts munching
crackers in my ear.
I awake, no breath,
to find her sitting,
snorting on my chest
and she’s an elephant.
published in Medusa's Kitchen:
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