At 3:00 am, sleep skitters
across the room,
a shy mouse, out of reach.
I lie in the dark
and hear more of them
in the walls, the ceiling:
old decisions, choices long past,
regrets, sorrows, fears,
yellow-toothed and dirty,
chewing wires.
At this rate lights will flicker,
come winter.
And so I call You,
Mouse-Catcher.
Are You there?
Will You answer?
Will You come here once again,
into the infestation?
I’m here, You say.
I’m here.
I hate mice, but I loved your poem.
I was once at a retreat with my son and his wife. I was in charge of the baby. And as I lay in my room and looked up, I saw the silhouette of one of those tiny creatures. Need I say that I didn’t sleep that last night.
Love your word choices. “Sleep skitters.” “Regrets, sorrows, fears, yellow-toothed and dirty.” Beautiful!
What a beautiful knack you have for nature’s metaphors. Poetry to God’s ears as well as mine.
Delightful! I’ll think differently about those mouse-sounds in the night now, Cheryl!
I agree with Emily, purely delightful. I can imagine the mice trying so hard to be victorious, but no match for the Cat – Mouse Catcher indeed.