Mouse?

It skitters past
quickly enough
to make me wonder
if I saw it.  

I have always trusted
my senses.
If I think I saw something,
I probably did.

I tear into the dark corner
to find it.
There’s nothing there —
time to stop trusting my senses?

Or is it my execution
that’s lacking?  
Did I miss it?
Was I too slow?  

Did I see
something
that can disappear
at will,

and I’m
just behind
the sensory
learning curve?

Did I —
against all odds —
imagine it?  
Or perhaps

I possess
newly broken eyes,
and what I saw
crossed my retina 

from within.  
Anything’s possible, now
that I have come
to this age.

On the floor
I rock on my knees,
thinking about how much
getting up is going to hurt —

it does, always,
lately.  Maybe I’ll lie down
right here and see if
I can see that mouse.

If I catch him,
if he comes sniffing around me,
I’ll be here.  Waiting. 
What I do best, now.