I’ve noticed how lately
you’ve taken up residence
and claimed free reign of my humble home —
as if you were meant to be here.
How you scurry about my kitchen, Earl of Morning,
Prince of Demurity, Sovereign of Shyness
scorning contact, refusing to concede even my presence
while I’m perking coffee or scrambling eggs
or simply puttering about.
The pantry, too, has succumbed to your shenanigans.
You’ve raided the rice, finagled the figs
rummaged the rind of a yet-to-ripen melon.
And all you’ve given for my unwilling generosity
is the back of your timorous tail
and a profligate amount of your prodigious pellets.
Now I’ve tried to be lenient with you —
even, one might say, tolerant of your presence.
I’ve left you offerings for your midnight snack —
tempting morsels meant to appease your avid appetite —
a crumble of cheese beneath the sink
a pat of peanut butter near the fridge
even, once, a bowl of fruit left, unwrapped,
beside a special cocktail I concocted
meant to con you, meant to attract you
to my little contraption in which I wished to whisk you away.
And yet, to no avail. You avoid my good will
and continue to sashay through my kitchen
ogling me as if I’m the one who should take his leave.
Dear Anonymouse: please understand:
I do not wish to harm you.
I merely bid you and your progeny godspeed.
So please: pack your things.
Make haste with your belongings.
Seek shelter in some other domicile.
Because come tomorrow
a certain calico companion is about to join my campaign.
Mike Maggio is a poet and fiction writer with nine full-length works to his name and numerous publications in journals including The Northern Virginia Review, The L.A. Weekly and others. His newest poetry collection, Let’s Call It Paradise, , will be released in 2021 by San Francisco Bay Press.. He is an adjunct assistant-professor at Northern Virginia Community College and an associate editor of The Potomac Review His web site if www.mikemaggio.net