Le Poeme
Le Poeme
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
satisfaction.
Come, little mousie, mousie,
come to your mama who
will take you to your grave.
1 comment:
Jerrie Hurd
October 17, 2010 at 9:43 PM
Just morbid enough to appeal to me! Good one!
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Just morbid enough to appeal to me! Good one!
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