The Tortured Mouse
The tortured mouse lies curled along the tiles.
It did not know that it would be laid out
In state on beige linoleum. The wiles
Of feline hunting placed her little snout
Against my floor. She never knew that claw
And tooth would pierce her life and flesh with pain
To bring her to the final awesome flaw
Called death. Her fur and feet and eyes remain
Unharmed, as perfect as they were when she
Went scampering and looking for a meal
Of fruit or grain. Her smoothness did not see
The spotted nighttime cat’s barbaric zeal.
She served as toy and plaything for a while
For one who sleeps now with a placid smile.