A Mouse in a Trap

A tiny wood raft was afloat

on the cold gray sea

of the cellar floor, and to it

a dead mouse clung,

trailing its legs and tail, the ship

of the rest of its life

swallowed up without leaving

so much as a ripple.

I felt the firm deck of the day

tilt just a little, as if all of us

living, surviving, had rushed

to one side to look down.