DOG BREATH: 21 DAYS OF POETRY, DAY 18
That mouse was NOT sleeping under the sink
back behind the little basket with cleaning rags in it,
snapped in a trap. And I didn’t like that at all.
Mice darting
from the void behind the kitchen cabinet
over to the refrigerator—
rodent highway firing up at night,
I didn’t really mind.
Little nibbles on the sweet potato rind?
Who cares, why not share?
But it’s not really clean or safe
to have a house infested with mice,
so it’s best to plug the holes,
keep things tidy so they stay outside
where we hear but don’t see hoot owls
where stout red tail hawks float overhead.
Better to stay outside than snapped in a trap, rattling around.
Leave a little fuzz in the weeds, a bone or two,
Maybe go on a final spinning skull ride kissed by air
or slammed, stunned—lights out, FAST