When the rat placed the stone on the trap food stains on the wall seemed well placed.

Crumbs in the bottom of the stove a tasseography of well meanings.

The sink resembled pigeon droppings at the zocalo.

Residue on the highchair claimed squatter’s rights.

Clothes lie as forgotten cadavers of the day.

Recycling moved around the cupboards as free radicals.

Dirty dishes created a mixed up version of musical chairs on the countertops.

I pull out the poetry anthology, flashlight, and read under the covers.