Quiet as a Mouse(new title)

[dukealien]

He came
       not with a knock
but a seep
       under sill and jam.
            A draft, a hunger
a winter’s night chill.
 
A quiet, a creep
            a mere mouse nibbling
through your house.
 
Only heard
            a feint gnawing
a tunneling, a chomping
            pantry to cupboard.
 
We didn’t know
            until dust,
meager crumbs
             and brittle bones.
 
Only your laugh remained
             caught in his throat.

First things first - the homonyms.  "[J]am" for jamb and "feint" for faint.  Either would almost make sense as they are, so within the realm of poetic license - "jam" as the lure, "feint" as misdirection by audible gnawing.  But just in case, there, to be mended if desired.

The outer story is clear enough - the small intruder, the clues, the caught breath on finding the remains.  The inner story, analogy to Death as the little creeping thing that steals away laughter with life, is there for me.  Nicely done.  In the first instance, speaking of "you" and "your" is fine; in the other, it turns mournful.

In my experience with house mice, once they're dead you tend to nose them out rather then simply find them unexpectedly.  Not sure how that figures in suspending my disbelief in the story - bones would say long time gone - or how it could be included in the poem (somewhere around "dust," I suppose).  Or if it should be (probably not).

Line structure is effective, discontinuities as thoughts wander or, perhaps, someone gasps his last.  Someone small, or a friend.