Mrs. Mouse’s Mousse

20 April 2009
Kew, England

Mrs. Mouse's mousse came to visit me
She likes for me to twist & twirl a thread
So she can flex her sharp & pointed claws
In quick & smooth paw swings to try & catch.

She likes to peep about inside my shoes
For surely there some rodent must have dwelt
(or so the cheesy-smell is sure to tell)
& Soft cow leather is so nice to chew.

Upon the coverlets she purrs away
At lilac softener Mrs. Mouse's mom
Uses when washing all the bed sheets clean
So she can soft prance on the air filled down.

But for her the favourite thing that I do
Is pop a camera’s bright flash while she stares
To make her big green eyes grow wider still
As if Minerva’s owl possessed her being.

In disbelief at this contrivance strange,—
That moving not yet leaves spots that confuse
Bringing strong sun where only mice should dwell,—
She’ll quietly wait before pouncing next.

She seems to think my hands are toys to scratch,
And that my back and chest are but tree trunks
To sink her claws in while climbing upwards
To perch upon a shoulder to look out.

But then after she’s tired and had her milk,
She’ll curl up in my hands and fall asleep,
Pressing a warm paw on my fingertip,
Soothed by the slow pulsing of my heartbeat.