Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Plague was, indeed
Something else
Too little to be a rat
Too wild to sit, quiet
Mere commonality
Micy silent
Like the other mice.
So, ratlike, he crept
Raiding the office larder
Trapped, mined
A juicy, dangerous place.
But, no matter how
Mice must die
When steel jaws close.
No chloroform will end
His broken misery.
But cuteness cures
Where daring fails
And today resides
Plague the half-rat
In the warm cage
Of a warmhearted fool.


Last request of the night, from a friend of one of the other poets. She asked for rats, chloroform, and a third element which I can't remember, and which I think I might have dropped from the composition. I explained the story behind it, and she was greatly amused.

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