A response to Billy Collins poem "Introduction to Poetry"
which you can read here.
After a day of waterskiing,
I'd ask him to yank a dead mouse
from between his legs and watch it
dangle from its bloody tail.
Watch it twined in cotton rope while its little
mouth hiccups one last breath before catching
a whiff of his own stewing insides and taking those
pinched fingers
and plopping the dead mouse next
to used tissues and fingernail clippings.
His fingers stained and his nose turned he will proceed
to give the dead mouse some decency and place a
single square over its body.
But because the body is still warm, the white
bleeds red and he will not notice that the dead mouse
isn't finished with him for he is fumbling
with another mouse-- a new mouse.
And this mouse slides easily into the home
of the previous occupant and soon the new mouse will expand-- making
its home filled with its own belongings.
And once Billy is done, he will hopefully,
wash his hands and wave to his onlookers on the shore all the while
squishing his legs together, hoping that no one will
beat a confession out of him and ask him if he's had an introduction
to this.
-sonja lynn mata
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