Distant Cousins
Aug 21 2008


Where there’s one mouse
there’s sure to be another.
Folk wisdom, like this
is what comes from living in the country.
And the little buggers are quick,
darting along the baseboards
scurrying under furniture.
I now have finely tuned ears
cocked for the thwack of mousetraps
— each snap
a small triumph of man over beast.

I know I should learn to share,
be more generous.
We are, after all, distant cousins,
eating
sleeping
caring for our young.
This tiny grey creature
will not run-up my pants leg;
will not nibble on my toes as I sleep;
will not eat me
out of house and home.
Yet I cannot endure even knowing
I have mice.

My traps are baited and set,
a final meal for the condemned.
Peanut butter,
as irresistible to mice
as it is to men.