rob mclennan is the best correspondant, even if I am the worst. Here is a poem from a book I received today:

Pest Song

from modern and normal, Karen Solie.

Your habits drew me. I could tell by the way

you leave the milk out at night, bread box open

and grains untied, that you are passionate

and I was smitten, lived with you for months

before you knew I was alive, learned the wiring

of your moods, drinking from your cups

and tasting leaves of every book you’ve read, sly

and devoted as a friend. Forgetting the wisdom

of my kind, I cried out one night when you walked

through the door, and the set of your mouth

was a new kind of poison. You say

there can never just be one. It’s understood.

But be assured, you don’t know everything. I am

alone. When you bring others to our home

I make a scene. If they really loved you, they

would stay. I rest on your pillow, lick your soap,

embrace your toothbrush while you’re gone. Now

you’re setting traps, eyes mean as bleach,

but I can’t believe you really want to do me harm.

You’d miss me and not know why, my voice,

the grace notes of my feet. So I keep my hunger

wrapped up tight, watch my step, come out late

to stare at you from a dark place, and wait

until you’re fast asleep before kissing you goodnight.