In here is the history of the world,

a wretched depiction of life’s poorest victims.

 

The deluded moth venturing all night

at the dim window trying to reach the moon.

The spider plucking his web

as the fly drowns in the toilet bowl.

 

Here is the threshing floor

we teeter across clutching our suitcases,

the butcher shop with

it’s the blood stained alter,

the desk and easy chair

in which the executioner sleeps.

 

Here we’re reminded the world’s

great history of dread

begins and ends in a single room.

 

Where everyone sleeps safer between the walls

or under the floorboards.

 

Where footsteps on the stairs

spring mice to action behind the scenes

 

and everyone is compelled to get their lives

together at a moment's notice.