When did the storks arrive
ushered on the wind
along cloud streets?

They've settled on a puddle
in the street by the canal.
Someone has fed them
a side of salmon.

The mouse-grey woman
scrubs the toilet bowl
with a stiff brush.

She lives in the walls of the house.
They are her skin.
She never speaks till spoken to.

She says, I am content,
which is better than happy.

I've taken some salmon
as if it were a gift.
I eat it with my fingers,
fresh, raw chunks.

I do not feel
my fingers burn.