Under the mold creep and roach scuttles
high in the crown molding corners cobwebs
attest to life and living not mine and not my own
The porch keeps its own counsel angrily
hiving umbrella wasps and carpenter bees
squeeze their fat abdomens into expressing
shit in the crack between column and cornice
Though painful to enter they enter
Yesterday afternoon I put my ear to the wall
and heard them conspiring against me
That’s a lie. I’m a liar
I have no idea what they were talking about
I wanted to tell you something. I too
would have preferred the truth
The houseplant’s life is a nightmare
of roots curled back on themselves
All night the dog dreams
of snapping the neck of a squirrel
of catching it and catching it
