Mice in the Walls by Vicki Wilson

Mice in the Walls

Mice run
along the edges
of rooms,
my husband tells me
while we put out traps
to catch the critters
we think are making
the noise in our walls.

I suddenly understand mice
so much better.
I, too, prefer a wall,
always choosing
the seat at a table
that puts my back to one.

I need to reduce
the angles
that trouble can
come at me from.

For instance, He’s dead
came from the left.
It’s cancer
came from the right.
She’ll continue to decline
came from the front.

I’m as timid as a mouse, I guess.
Except: No.
Careful as a mouse.
Smart as a mouse.
Securing at least one side
from which I can’t be hurt.

*

Vicki Wilson is a freelance journalist who also writes fiction, plays, and poetry. Her work has appeared in Rattle, Smokelong, The Southampton Review, and Literary Mama, and is forthcoming in Flash Fiction Online. She lives in upstate New York with her husband, son, and dog, Ellie, who’s also known as Elle-Belle, Puppernutter, or Floofter.