Of course he blessed the mice 
each night. Even as they 
gnawed his sleep from its edges 
along with the brittle straw 
in the pallet these narrow 
friars begged him to 
rest on after he refused 
a bed and gave away 
his blanket. Almost 
alone, in the dark, 
he whispered –

Praise be brother mouse 
whose tiny feet and teeth 
keep me awake so as to pray. 
Fill your stomach and grow fat 
with straw. Diminish
my comfort, empty 
my pallet, bring this ruin 
of a body ever closer
to the earth.