photoart: ralph murre
The
Mouse
by
Wilda Morris
Beginning
with a line from Billy Collins
Dressed
in its light brown suit,
it
entered my basement
without
invitation.
I
did not look on it
with
love, despite its wistful eyes,
its
sophisticated whiskers
and
its toes, smaller than my grandson’s
when
he was born. I didn’t offer
to
shake hands or bring a bowl
of
crackers and a cheese ball
infused
with port wine.
Instead,
I plotted to rid my house
of
this mouse with its cleverly cupped ears,
frightened
look and evident hunger.
I
never asked if its name
is
on the endangered species list,
if
it carried a card of recommendation
or
why it dressed in such elegant velvet.
