This once was a pole barn —
an empty place where cats and lizards slept,
where snakes crawled,
where stray dogs squatted.
I don't recognize this new place
because it isn't for me.
I'm just a possum, or a salamander,
and I'll have to find a refuge elsewhere.
I'll make my own place
at the bottom of an empty mine
or inside a glowing tabernacle —
with no mirrors, but with bright lights
and cold, familiar amenities.
