In the storage cellar
Rats gnaw through dusty barrels,
Scuttling through the walls
Tracking wine and shit,
Along with crumbs of them,
So much so we don’t know
What the smell is,
Just something in the house
Is rotting.
Burning brown sugar candles
In a vain attempt to hide it,
We scrub the sense of failure
From our chapped and peeling skin.
*
Make sure they dance,
For the time being.
Make them scream
While they wait.
Soon you’ll realize
Each smile is an asterisk.
A reminder
Of the future.
You’re alone.
You’re alone, I said.
*
Boy beneath the cupboard,
Crying. First wife
Locked inside her room. Told they’re wrong
Our heroes become immortal.
But the reader asks themselves
The wrong question. Not how? When.
