I am but a small mouse

By: Constance Woodring

skittering through the edges of your life.
So tiny, and yet so much power do I have over the female gender.
They are taught by the age of three to scream “EEK!” at the sight of me,
and they never outgrow their fear.

Each eek gives me nourishment. I grow and become strong.
At last I become a rat, and with my many kin, we ravage and pillage the sewers, kitchens, slums, barns
and war-torn trenches of everyone’s lives. Everyone is afraid now.

We are impervious to your piddling poisons and traps.

Our wee allies who ride our backs and spread plagues celebrate victories around the human-infested

The meek and those a bit larger will inherit the earth.

Categories: Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.