Ode to a Dead Mouse: A Poem by Doug Ferguson
Friday, September 21, 2012 |
Poetry in the Vines - Vancouver, British Columbia -
A silent war, with stolen food,
you leave traces through the night.
We find your spoils, spare the rest,
and arm ourselves to fight.
I've heard you scurrying, little scavenger,
while I've tried to sleep.
Under the stove is your escape
where I have heard you squeak.
Why would you not fall for the traps,
we set to spare your life?
Set the bait, arm the trigger,
as lethal as a knife.
In the night you came around,
in search of tastes that please.
A step, a snap, a broken neck,
You gave your life for cheese.
I rose from bed, I saw the trap,
knew you had no tomorrow.
There was no joy or celebration,
and all I felt was sorrow.
Doug Ferguson,
Poetry in the Vines,
poetry | in
Poetry in the Vines 

