kinds of rat traps

tell me all the ways i will be captured.
snap behind the fridge. chandelier
falling so that i become a punch bowl.
i do not have enough doors
to run out of. there is a forest fire
that speaks my name over & over.
a conjuring. i am summoned 
to staircases & dark alleyways of broken glass.
there are the more humane. the door
that closes you in. the sudden shock
like a lighting dog. my little ghost machines
who will we call home tonight.
knocking on the door of a house
i once owned & finding the dwelling empty still
even after all these years. has anyone
ever waited for you? even for a second?
i relish those moments when i see
a face as a pie crust. when we eat
as much as we can in the guillotine room.
not i. not i. i never had gold for breakfast.
i never held a gun like an infant. 
or else there is another way out. i am always 
looking for the trap door or the bookshelf
that turns into an entrances. 
running my fingers along the wall.
my tail, like a pursed lip, behind me. 
there are jaws. there are circuses of farewell.
i come in search of a hole in the wall.
leave like black walnut rotting 
in the yard. my guts, stain-worthy & wild.