The rhyme
repeats again:
See how they run.
See how they run.
We’re victimized
by each surprise:
the farmer’s wife,
the carving knife.
Don’t sleep at night.
We fear
the murderers:
one captured three
towns away. Two
still free. Like mice,
they tunneled through
sewage pipes under
the penitentiary.
We lock all doors,
and, when the wind
hurtles umbrellas
against the deck,
we hide.