Settling In by Jenny Factor

How I loved each bare floor, each naked wall, the shadows on

newly empty halls. By day, my head humming to itself of dreams, I cleaned and

scrubbed to make life new; dislodging from the corner,

the old moths and cicadas pinned to the screen, the carcasses

of grasshoppers dangling from beams, and each windowsill's clutter of

dried beetles and dead bees. But, through each opening, each closing door,

the old life returns on six legs, or spins a musty web as it roosts over

a poison pot, or descends from above to drink blood in. This is how it

happens: the settling in—the press of wilderness returns to carved-out space, to skin.

— Queer Nature by Michael Walsh