Two are napping
the other two are in the meadow
the cabin is quiet
but not in that peaceful way
I thought it would be
the fan wanders the ceiling
around and around
like a sad dog
the felt pens look eerie
too jolly and still
like an open casket
and an embalmer looking sheepish
knowing he got
carried away
I sit outside in the sun
tell myself
this is nourishing
but I can’t get slippery fish out of my head
and when I get to the part
where the humongous whale burps
I half expect the trees
to laugh.