clipped from writersalmanac.publicradio.orgBrotherhood
Hungry at dawn, anointing slabs of bread
With oily peanut butter, I remember
The snare I'd laid. Perhaps a mouse and I
I kneel and from beneath the sink retrieve
The spring trap, in its clasp
The forehead of a victim who'd believed
Its prize within his grasp.
Stiff frozen tail, expression of chagrin—
Into the trash compactor. Dust to dust.
It owes me nothing more, this guillotine
Sprung many times, blood-stained, springs red with rust.
Thoughtful, I chew a half-stale apple tart.
More tempting baits I've risked my neck for, but
When will that ring of fat around my heart
Snap shut?
No comments:
Post a Comment