Among the Crepuscular Mice

by Patricia Russo

The heat like a blackout curtain
pressed against your face,
the trees standing motionless,
at a loss for words;

in the long grass,
the ghosts wait in a row,
ignoring the crepuscular mice
foraging through their feet.

You feel no urgency,
just a quiet curiosity.
The water should be back tomorrow,
said the woman on the news,

but you’ll have to boil it.

The ghosts don’t care.
They are waiting for the rain.

Patricia Russo's work has appeared in One Art, The Sunlight Press, Hex Literary, Vagabond City, Crow and Cross Keys, The Engine Idling, Waffle Fried, and Metachrosis Literary.