Poyetry

Sunday, June 18, 2006

To A Mouse


To A Mouse
Betsy McKenzie









How could I ever lay a trap for thee,
Little sister, once I knew you for my own?
Oh, the panic at being held for your own good!
Terrified at being transported to a place where
You will be better off, and well-cared for!
And the utter disillusion and despair when you are finally dumped,
Unceremoniously, and without recourse,
Alone and without a return ticket or dime,
Miles from your home,
Among hostile strangers.
Quick death would be kinder.

February 7, 2006

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