Monday, March 07, 2005

Ode to a Sudden Mouse

he trembles above me on a shelf
a small dark moon with silver teeth

I am eating vegetable soup alone
spoon to mouth, spoon to bowl

the murmuring cats circle my ankles
the mouse watches me as if I am dancing
suspiciously

a handful of blood and intent
he is the small thing that never lets us
forget what we have done

the guilt of unwashed dishes,
the corner drawer stuffed with apples
never touched, the anger we feed then
ignore in a closet for months

that time last winter in the cab when I
looked at you
and said what cannot be unsaid

______________

Oh and not to leave you in suspense he just got eaten

2 comments:

Michael Snider said...

I like this one a lot, Christine — "a handful of blood and intent"s wonderful. And the last lines surprise and then reshape everything before. A neat trick.

Err ... is the note on the mouse's fate part of the poem? Would it be bad to say I hope not?

Christine said...

No, the last line about the RIP mouse is not part of the poem. It's about the fate of the mouse, a brave, lonely mouse that ventured into an apartment crowded with cats.

This poem was inspired by him.