Jenny lives in a mason jar
With a door in the screwtop lid
And compartments with clear curving walls
And holes poked in the top

Jenny lives in a matchbox in my pocket
Now and then I push in a wedge of cheese
Or let her out to go down on hands and knees
By the droplets on the bathroom counter

At night I wrap her in the softest cotton
And push in a tiny little pillow
I go to sleep listening to her little snores
And the nonsense syllables of her sleep babble

Jenny lives in a little room
In the exact center of my mind
She leans on the windowsill
And enjoys the warm and gentle wind