iT’s harder to kill things here

the wet of mississippi hangs

droplets from the very river

saturating my wall

every pane of these windows

scraped clean

of the green-fingered algae

growing up to seal out

golden light

houses propped

up a foot on cinderblocks

oasis of leaves,       geckos,      roaches

            many-inches long

            scuttling through the door jamb

            to hover, ominously

            above the dining table

at night in the garage, I pull warm clothing

from dryer, wet from washer

between slamming their doors and clicking settings into place

I try not to hear

the rats shifting in their rafters

held back by the glow of my light

until I retreat back inside