accidental narnia in the mouse closet

when everyone else had moved out
i learned to talk to the mice. i crouched 
& put my ear to the closet door. sometimes
the sirens outside were so loud that 
they intruded on our communion.
other nights we spoke. the mice told me
there was a place deep inside the closet
where everything was made of sugar. 
i watched the same nature documentary show
five times. turned it up loud to soak the walls
in a jungle. the mice became bolder in those
final weeks. i did not want to fight them.
one night we had dinner together on the floor.
i showed them pictures of us when we had 
been happy. when the ocean beat her wings 
across our backs. i drove while you read poetry.
the mice asked me, "are you going to join us?"
they wanted me to climb into the closet too.
to see the world they had told me so much about.
i hesitated. everything felt too late. too late
to be a man. too late to be a girl. nothing left
but bones & doorways. i applied for jobs.
i wept in the stairwell. the mice reminded me,
"there is so much sugar." i regret not taking
them up on their offer. the walls have changed
so much. folded & opened. i don't call you
like i used to. someone else lives in that apartment
& they do not talk to the mice. not like i did.
once in awhile i will go into my closet here
when no one else is home. i will press my ear
to the wall. no sirens. no mice either but 
the sweet sound of a door without a hinge. 
i know on the other side my mouse kin are there
eating themselves into light.