Small eyes fold into corners where rats hide
and birds nest.
The shy mammal wraps her glossy black cape
about her shoulders, licks out with a long
pink muscle and probes the private spaces
of an attic, a musty closet where
the other children’s shoes would lie
those long ago summers.
Her voice bounces off the abandoned eaves
and the opening where a green curtain
waves a balmy wind into chambers warm and thick
with peeling iridescent wallpaper.
She unfolds, careful not to crush her spring furs,
sweeps herself into the dusk
of a half-open hope chest and sleeps in the shadow
of an old box of his handkerchiefs.
(C) KL Pereira
Do not repost without permission.