action is a mouse

I click: soft,
laminated, patient.
clothes dryer thrums behind the wall
where a mouse chews

he folded his ribs to slip
through a crack in the foundation
to build a winter home
to live inside my life:

i can't refuse.
the corn is off the fields now,
and it is cold.

I can already hear traffic
on the road
that spring will build.

I can already hear the moving van
pull away.

Anticipation is a typewriter.

Action is a mouse
devouring the frame of the world.