mice under skin

nice under skin. the nocturnal 
word from the curier saying
it's time to rice our eggplant
& hid the purple. 
time to tie the food up
in the tree so we don't eaten 
by hairs. all foot prints
lead to the crock pot.
i imagine an infantry of infants 
with all their squirrel fingers
& their rolling. push rodents
from cloud & hope they fly.
i sprouted one wind last year 
& severed it off for an entree. 
i knew nothing about warble
or chuck. just ate corn down 
to the marrow. god swept
each scull with the husk broom
saying: forget you were ever 
forget you were ever. 
i try to banish
sensations. shake my face over
trash can. squeeze out my hands 
in the drain: all strawberry red,
dripping like a goose neck.
but it always comes back. my face
crawls with currants. sweet little pebbles.
a webbed foot
opening under my breast plate.
can of quartz emptied across my thighs.
teach me to live like bed sheets.
i want to breathe through
invisible aqua & air. usher in 
my own naked ankles. mice in
the sky like stars. 
mice in the tea cup hotel rooms.
mice peering out 
from under my skin.