Poem

Mouse
by Jesse Glass

in a trap
while we slept

white belly
that crept
over kitchen floors
eyes
staring
down
a cold night

the coveted
shards
of corn chip
split by
thumbnail

tripped
the metal
pedal
of doom

-we most solemnly
entomb-

strong legs
hinged
for a leap
(leap no more)

& the fine brown
hair
fit for lady's
wear

invites
a melodrama:

-Call for Tourneur's
heavy line
(if not Marlowe's
own)


-& Call for a matchbox
a garden trowel
a leveling instep
for the Over-Reacher-


& soft transition
for intrepid jaws
in this harvest
weather.

© 2002 by Jesse Glass