rice, mice

— Casey FitzSimons

on opening the kitchen drawer
turds in silverware
and a clattering from the runners
onto pots
and cookie sheets below

not a single grain remains
there’s no accounting
for the whole new box of Uncle Ben’s
it should have been
in a mouseproof tin

the rest carted off I thought
in commodious cheeks
to waiting broods where the lawn grass
goes unmowed
but no

this time for California packing
a still-sealed attic box
a corner torn
two years ago hauled here
at my insistence—baby clothes

I look at them in elegy
two years unused

hold up a footie jumper
gravity down-tugging its feet
in each foot an ounce of rice
trotted three floors up
delivered through
the nibbled corner

instinct knew better than I did,
they’d be for winter after winter
indefinitely safe


One thought on “rice, mice

  1. Casey – this tickled me…..have read it many times and still squirm with delight at the thought of those little critters, a grain at a time, magically transporting them up to the footling. Your words transport me up the stairs or pipes or electrical wires – however they do it – and I am whispering and mumbling with joy to be along for the adventure. Lovely poem on a peeve.

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