Poem by Valerie Loveland

Inside The Wall

Something pecks an S.O.S. 

The cats notice first: a hostage 

gulped through the house seams. 

During the breaks between scratching, 

I wall-press my ear—listen for acorns crunching, 

nest-building, a rabbit’s timepiece, or a cell phone.

The exterminator has a kind face

but I can’t trust someone with a van that says Pest Control.

I send him away and quarantine the cats to the bathroom.

I slice the drywall, that sheet cake baked solid 

over wires and beams. Through the new window 

I flicker a flashlight, hoping she’ll recognize my signal: 

I’m here to rescue you.

A Starling leaps out, yellow beak, 

grey, with ash freckles, a long firm stare. 

Starlings are mimics—

I could train her to say “Thank you for saving me.” 

I blink and she remembers how to fly, 

perimeters the ceiling once, and flits out 

the front door without a remark.

Valerie Loveland is the author of Reanimated, Somehow (Scambler Books, coming in late April 2009). She works as an optician apprentice and lives in Massachusetts. To read more of her poems, visit her website: valerieloveland.com