MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Out of the Mist by Verne L. Thayer

Table of Contents

Poetry


Windex

Peter Braddock

Sitting in front of the T.V.
my body transforms into
a mouse.

I scurry around the floor looking for food,
when a foot catches the end of my tail.

Mother stands over me with a crystal glass,
the ones kept locked away and never used,
and a bottle of Windex.

The glass comes down trapping me inside,
the edge tilts,
and a mist of Windex fogs the crystal,
she watches,
waiting for me to die.





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