The mice left droppings in our cabinets
The mice also shit in our rice
We ate it anyway 

The dishes made us sick
We barely rinsed them
When they piled too high
To reach, we ignored them
And improvised with cereal
In a pot, eggs on a frisbee,
The handle of a hairbrush
To stir mass chili. 

I used to live in a house with 25 people
The house next door had 25 people
Sometimes I lived next door too
I slept with most of them
And watched the rest sleep with each other 

The mornings lasted into evenings and I’d throw 
A parka over pajamas to step out 
In slippers in the snow 
To go next door to watch TV 
And burn breakfast mac n’ cheese 

I used to live in garbage 
But with good company
Now I live alone 
It’s not even that clean

Claire Denson is a Poetry Reader for The Adroit Journal and holds an MFA from UNC Greensboro, where she served as Editorial Intern for The Greensboro Review. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Massachusetts Review, Sporklet, and Hobart, among others. You can find her at clairedenson.com.