It’s cold enough for the mice to come in Am I sorry for them?
Marginally Do I despise them? Undoubtedly
Mice With their tiny grasping hands Disease infested hair Greasy and slick with subterfuge Their secretive ways Collapsing bones and furtive looks
I imagine them climbing my blankets to nest in my hair Flying out of cupboards-claws extended to rake my face Sharpened teeth And button eyes intent on survival I would rather have snakes Benign Solitary No fangs or claws A garder snake But I can hear those little claws Scratching even now
Underneath the baseboard where the dark little passages grow while we sleep The cat is at the door Tail twitching We look at each other I nod- go for it She, at least, understands