Brown Mouse and Mr. Ghost

i.
Brown Mouse has lost his tail.
At least I think he had a tail,
a long time ago.
He still has his striped shirt-
half green and yellow stripes,  half red and black -
Like a harlequin
or a gondolier.
On his left ear the little beret has
faded from green to dusty grey.

He almost lost his shirt once.
The back is sewn up with crazy
childish Frankenstein stitches.
The faded label on his bottom
says "MADE IN JAPAN",
When that was a thing.
His head tilts a little to the right but
his eyes still look up into yours.

When he spoke to me, which he did;
in a voice like I am speaking to you now,
it was always wise.  He would be
reasonable when the white rabbit-skin cat
only spoke of love.
He was the clever one;
The practical one;
"Let's get up and ask for a drink."
"Let's run to the edge of the yard
and back."

ii
Mr Ghost looked like the rustling of flags in a breeze.
He was tall, as everyone was in those days.
Mr. Ghost spoke to me of
wild things - things I did not understand.
He spoke of the body.
He spoke of fear and vulnerability.
He stood at my back when I peed
To protect me from the monsters.

Brown Mouse and Mr. Ghost ate
lunches of toasted cheese sandwiches
and tomato soup with me
at the little kitchen table
as hazy smokey sunlight
poured down across the floor.
They watched the news in black and white,
And cartoons on Saturday morning.
They rode in the back seat with me
watching the telephone poles go by.
Counting every pole.

III
Their voices,one by one,
Came inside and joined
The throng of priests and tyrants.
Or were lost therein.
When do the toys of youth
Lose the glamour of speech ?

Echos down an empty hall,
Whispers
then the sound of the candle snuffed.