Friday, October 15, 2010

Come to mama, little mousie, mousie

the traps are empty, their jaws
gaping, waiting, their almond
butter offerings untouched.
I wait expectantly, every hour
opening the cabinets hoping for
Come, little mousie, mousie,
come to your mama who
will take you to your grave.

1 comment:

Jerrie Hurd said...

Just morbid enough to appeal to me! Good one!