A Note to the People Under the Stairs

A NOTE TO THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS

I know you're there.

I hear you:

your dried-leaf whispers,

a shushed sursurrance

as you rustle and scuffle about,

a soft sibilance seeping

from beneath the floorboards.

Do you listen for us too,

with a mutter and a hiss,

your bony fingers curling

'round the newel posts,

tracing our forgotten footsteps

in the dust?

Do you scuttle into the corners

as we clumsily clatter by,

invisible among the cobwebs,

melting into the dusty recesses

belowstairs?

Oh people under the stairs -

I know you're there.