I almost never understand poetry, beyond like Little Miss Muffett or There once was a guy from Nantucket…
Every few months, I read a poem in the New Yorker just to be sure I’m still clueless in this regard, and you can almost see the words fly over my head.
But the other day, I was inspired to write a poem based on something that really happened. In the spirit of taking a much-deserved break from campaign nonsense, here it is. New Yorker–you know where to find me!
The Mouse’s Table
A few months ago:
I set a trap that killed a dirty grey mouse in our pantry.
It’s never good to take a life, but as that nasty mouse
was in my house
I took what I judged to be the necessary steps.
But as I cleaned the pantry I saw something in there that gave me paws.
The mouse had taken a pretzel nugget
and placed it on a short can, as if to make itself a little table to eat off of.
That changed everything.