Painted Green Pastures

The street light strayed into the room
piercing like cat eyes
stalking the night
patiently waiting for the field mouse
to let its guard down.

Only the shadows move
as the heart races,
pumping a raging chemical river
flooding through the valley
of your memories -
you'll never think that way again

In the morning,
a pair of slippers is slid on your feet

(shoe laces are not allowed in here)

then they walk you to a chair
to teach you how to sit again

In your lap
they place a box
little holes punched
in the sides and on the top
so the field mouse
can breathe