A POEM IS A MOUSE

James Wood

A poem is a mouse.

Slyly slinking along the dark corridor.

The slightest movement can send him in another direction.

His dark, beady gleaming eyes ever so carefully scan his surroundings.

There is no blockade for him,

For he will chew right through it

And dart into the most hidden parts of the house.

Whether it’s the cupboard or garage,

He is free. The world is in his tiny paws.

His unorthodox path begins right under our noses.

He darts across an entire continent of tile, carpet, perhaps wood.

Both the poem and the mouse dance to life’s unexpected serenades.

From the earth’s blanket of the forest floor to the cool, solidified surface of concrete and tile,

The mouse has seen it all.

 

 

 

 

James is a UHMC student currently taking English 104, Introduction to Creative Writing, taught by Paul Wood.