maelstrom

she couldn't help
herself. the books
and boxes stacked from
floor to ceiling,
newspapers, magazines,
porcelain pigs and cows
from all fifty states
including puerto rico,
five dogs, a herd of cats,
a barrel of empty cans,
a goat tied up out
back beside the shed
where she kept even
more things that had
no value. each year
brought in more,
another animal, another
stranger who might
be a lover or the next
husband. a maelstorm.
and yet to sit with
her, away from it all,
she'd be fine, pretty
and sweet, careful
with her words, and
manners. not one hint
of the insanity that
lurked within, until
she opened her purse
for a stick of gum,
or a cigarette,
and a mouse would crawl
out across the table.