Refuge
Mornings, the bookseller straightens books to the chirp
of refugees saved from the mouths of geckos,
birds. The bathroom is a safe-house for crickets escaping
from the pet store in the mall. They seek
the beacon of the water heater, traveling by night
across swirly carpet, past Stephen King, Dr. Phil,
Goodnight, Moon. The corporate manager, all twitchy
in dress and high heels, struts in to scrutinize profits
and employees. You’ve got to rearrange
the store and sell more discount -- Mouse! The rodent
skitters back to Religion’s dark corner. The manager cowers
in the back room while the bookseller grabs a broom, scoots
mouse out the door, down the marble hall to Pet World. Of three
pounding hearts, which is most afraid?