Listen up.
I know you can barely hear me,
or all you can hear is squeaking,
but I have some information for you.

I’m getting rather bummed out
about the “pest control.”
The mousetraps,
although I’ve heard that getting your neck snapped in half is rather enjoyable,
the sticky traps,
as much as I know starving is a quick, painless way to go,
the poison,
because it is an unoriginal remake of Arsenic and Old Lace, mouse version,
the high-pitched ringing,
even if it’s music to my ears.

And I don’t understand
what I’ve done to you.
I saw an outburst
at the box of crackers,
but there weren’t many left,
and they were stale, besides.
And the hole in your cupboard-
well, I need a home, too,
a cozy cot for my family.
And it’s not as if you’re using it.
It works the same now as always,
open, shut, open, shut, open, shut,
and you never really look at it, anyway.

I’m sorry if I offend
but I just don’t understand.
I’m a good rodent,
just trying to
take care
of the nest.
Why the war?