Like So Many Mice in a Bucket 


by Michael Robins




I miss my friends, I mean miracles


& pattering rests in the dazzled nest



isn’t that plain enough? Rents go up 


unavoidably, stealing with it a yard



which is like the carbon of nowhere 


you need be today. Happy endings,



coasting tire & hum until we’re free


& miss a good church luring old age



reasonably, convincingly, intensely


as a cornfield on a hot summer day. 



You swerve the car often, see dodos 


dragging twice their size. Breaking



for these abodes are the blue pools,


the clean pairing of wing & horizon.



So let us weigh then what we know


when the world reassembles & rises.