The Rodent Bait Box Behind the Restaurant

To some it would seem a castle
at the end of a long journey. 
The surprise of the table set.
No hearth, but the absence of wind,
of cold. No candles lighting the feast;
instead, darkness—a gift to all
who live their lives in shadow.
Small square holes for entering
and exiting, corridors like familiar
tunnels in an underground den.
Each visitor arrives without caution.
The nose, delicate and refined,
locates the feast; soft palms raise
each pellet to the mouth like a chalice.
Hunger, the desperate hole, is filling …
once satisfied, all are free to go.
And they do, though like drunks
leaving a bar, some will pause
before the opening and blink
at a world they no longer know.

Caroline Barnes is a writer and editor in Silver Spring, Maryland. She has published in Rattle, Rhino, The Baltimore Review, Unbroken Journal, American Journal of Poetry, Comstock Review, and Dappled Things, and has a poem forthcoming in Cider Press Review. Her poem “Portrait of My Father as a Young Doctor” was selected as a finalist in Rhino Poetry Founders’ Contest in 2024. She received an Independent Artists Award from the Maryland State Arts Council in 2022 and is currently at work on her first poetry collection.

Published July 15 2025