Masked Intruders

Raccons steal the doormat from Helene Cixous.
They eat her red lipsticks, and track mud typographically
across her gravel path.
She does not notice them, or hear them, or seem to see them,
even when they sluice a manuscript in her small mossy trough
beneath the outside taps. Even when they waddle right over her shoes,
which are unmatched, and equally chic.
She says, "Where is my favorite victim?" a repetition from a lecture at UCBerkeley,
and the visiting scholar chuckles through the kitchen window
where she is finishing the washing up.
Cixous leans back over her laptop, uneven feet nosing at the stones.
She curses the impossible choices:
Does she want to UNDO TYPING or CANCEL?
Neither is a choice not offered.