I live in a house with a clock mouse.
No, in fact, there are actually two.
I say in fact actually because in actual factuality
my faculties do hold it to be true:
there are two.
Their names are Hour and Minute,
and though there’s very little in it
I would say Minute is definitively brighter.
She makes all sorts of clever things
from old bits of cogs and springs.
A rodent genius. A thinker, not a fighter.
Meanwhile Hour has the charm
all the wit and warmth and smarm
to talk them smoothly out of harm and out of danger.
They’ve been known to fix up the freezer
with parts that they took from the car
or to engineer a small quantum transceiver
which burns with the force of a star.
There’s one machine that I am feeling was made for traversing the ceiling
but I have no idea what half of them are.
I live in a house with two clock mice,
not one, as I’ve told you is true.
I’m most delighted to share a home with clock mice
and I imagine that you would be too.
Image sourced from Wikimedia Commons. Photographer: Albert Bridge.