The History of Keys and Locks: Part 2

Trapped inside a beam,
I will drink rum until
I am furry and can only
hear you.

This will ripen, will lead
to love in some way at
home, in pillows like
inside crouched squirrels.
They are well-fed, following
lenses weighted down by
They have howled for a
lost nephew- did
the weeping then follow?
did the sleep of welding
ears to maps lead to this
influx of folding?

Above the towel rack hangs
a hot etching of spines.
They owe no one but the
goldfish and floodlights.