One Day, I Went Fishing For Mice. Poem by Michael Gale

The other day I tossed a fishing line
with a hook full of cheese down the
heating vent...
I had hoped to get a line's jiggle.

It nearly did not wiggle...
But at last! ...

It had a slight wriggle...
I pulled and hard I yanked.

In God, I had a full lengthened-belief...
In this faith filled mirror, what would
I, have to retrieve?

To my surprise, it swung back and fro'...
Did not know what to think, or what to know?

I pulled it up very gingerly, and slowly-yet...
What would I see, and what, would I get?

I got a muffled 'Please good mister-Please let me go? ..
A voice of that, I did not recognize or know.

Well look here, I said to myself...
I'll not throw you back in-You'll go on my trophy shelf.

His eyes did look forlorn and trapped, in a darkened, brown...
To my face, it did, put on a frown.

The cheese was bloodied from the hook's barbed spear...
To some one else, this should appear-real queer.

His mouth was bleeding too...
As I looked at his round furry ears, I thought, what should I do?

I can't throw him back, for that would be a waste...
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! No more chase.

As i threw him in a frying pan, atop the stove...
He would no longer harass me and freely wander and rove.

I threw in a stick of butter to him to baste...
Then mixed around in the tomatoes among the gooey-sticky-paste.

After he was done in...
I deposited him into my cat's eating tin.

Now I no longer have inside my house...
Not 'nary a bothersome mouse.

Least ways-one that talks...
Not even a silent one that steals and sneakily, stalks.