the clothes in the closet

are breathing slowly, 

at a microscopic level

expanding, contracting

as the temperature shifts,

circulating the slightest

puffs of air;



they huddle together

as the night grows cold

and push apart during the

stuffy hours 

when the house is empty,

they play card games after lunch

but without eyes

there is little strategy;



at the sound of an opening door

the deck gets tucked

back into a sweater pocket

there is a faint giggle

as they joke about

pulling the wool over human eyes

one more time.