Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Sonnet #23

Upon the tile, in dust, it caught my eye
I held the tiny mace aloft, and thought no worse
Then I knew a rodent's paw mold and dry
I flinched and felt what did not strike me first
A dessicated vegetable, a forlorn branch
Another mystery of homes with dogs and cats
But, no, a rodent's paw, no wishes grant
Except the mysteries: a mouse? a rat?
How long it had been there I do not know
It was just another muddy twig upon the floor
Where's the rest of the creature? The dog would know
This is horror, this fear, I feel at gore:
I can't stop thinking is a mouse inside a wall
It's wiggling tail, lost limb, a blood trail crawl

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