Between the dark and the morning When the night tries to take over Comes a pause in the cleaning That is known as The Dust Bunnies Hour. Silently in the chamber above me Comes the quiet patter of little lint The unheard sound of a door unopened No voices, but rather clumps of gray fluff. From my bedroom I see in the nightlight Descending the hall and the stairs Human and pet hair, dust and dead-skin Not to mention dust mites and parasites. Not a whisper, only beggar’s velvet Yet I know by their felt-like entanglements They are plotting and planning together To take the house by surprise. A sudden rush down the stairs A sudden raid from under the beds By all corners left unguarded They enter my ‘castle’ walls. They climb up my pants and cling to my clothes Over my arms and the back of my hair If I try to escape, they wagon-train surround me They are now appearing everywhere. They get in my nose and in-between my toes Their tiny arms – they ensnare me Till I think of the robotic ball with the electrostatic sleeve It rolls under furniture collecting Dust Bunnies. Do you think, o little gray bandits Just because you’ve crawled along the hall Such an old geezer as me Is not an equal match for your static electricity? I now have you fast in my robotic ball And will not let you depart But put you down into the dust-bin It’s the circular-file of life for you, I have no heart. And there you will stay until trash day Then to the land-fill forever and ever Till you’re plucked-up by a bird for a nest And moulder in bird poop, with no escape what-so-ever. ‘2007’ RLS