By Betsy Mars
I socked him away,
safe from escape,
with warmth
to the touch and softness –
smelling of mouse
pellets and hay.
Like a lucky rabbit foot
to stroke in the night
when demons came
calling for me, he comforted,
but I slept right through
to the mourning
He was cold
and hard to the touch.
In my guilt, I emptied
the sock and left him
rigid in the cage,
To be discovered
and buried,
along with my memory
of inadvertent, mindless murder.
At eight years old,
I learned that love could be lethal.
Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets 
Betsy. This is wonderful. A amazing poem.
I don’t know how I missed your comment. I apologize. I am really touched and appreciative. I hope this message reaches you.
You are welcome. I enjoyed your work.
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Please read the amazing poetry of a talented writer.
Reblogged this on marsmyst's Blog and commented:
My latest publication – tribute to Davy, my best and worst loved mouse.