The Baseboard

I shoved the dresser back to see the floor,

near the heavy shadow of the closet door.

A smell of cellar dirt and ancient rain

had leaked into the carpet like a stain.

There, in the gap where the wood has curled,

was a rubbery witness to a hidden world.

A pale cap pushing through the dark and grit,

reaching for the light, however small of it.

It shouldn't be alive in a house so dry,

but it feeds on the rot that the walls supply.