We've been having a bit of trouble from an uninvited visitor in the house - holes gnawed in the kitchen cupboard, droppings scattered like wild rice and the occasional bump in the night. Setting a trap resulted in victory of the most hollow kind. It reminded me of this poem.
The noises that we make are quite predictable--
the mouse is so ill it can only judder
in its tiny pain.
You said it was so pretty and ran upstairs.
You must have heard the iron on the step,
the lifting of the dustbin lid.
And I was so shocked--
on my fingers the little shame of urine,
the silent bravery of blood.
From Selected Poems.
The noises that we make are quite predictable--
the mouse is so ill it can only judder
in its tiny pain.
You said it was so pretty and ran upstairs.
You must have heard the iron on the step,
the lifting of the dustbin lid.
And I was so shocked--
on my fingers the little shame of urine,
the silent bravery of blood.
From Selected Poems.
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