by Aidan O'Shea © 2012
I killed a mouse yesterday.
His blood and entrails spilled
Over the trap and onto
The fawn carpet of the living room.
I felt a wave of nausea
And of pity as well.
For we had been playing
Hide and seek for weeks.
Once he dashed across
The flaming cooker hob,
Sidestepped the frying pan
And disappeared.
He liked to join me
In the evenings
Watching a good movie on TV
Despite his short attention span.
How did he seal his fate?
It came down really
To poor personal hygiene
On his part, not mine.
If you are squeamish,
Then stop right here.
Firstly, a black and faecal
Speck in the sugar bowl.
And finally the butter
Dragged from its dish overnight.
Forensics showed
Proven rodent clawprints.
If he had been house-trained
And reduced his intake
Of saturated fats
We would still be friends.
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