There,

with the spider

and the gathering dust

in between the space

where the vacuum exists,

that’s where I should be,

no bother, not in the way,

an inconvenience

to no one

except the maid with drooping eyes

and the start of impetigo on her top

lip which she dull like covers

with purple lipstick and unshaved hairs;

that is where I should be,

there in hiding

in the cracks

not a nuisance

or distraction.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016