Marcabre Dance For A Dead Mouse, After Robert Burns And Theodore Roethke Poem by Warren Falcon

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O little mouse, why dost thou cry
While merry stars laugh in the sky? - Sarojini Naidu


Wee brisket.
Gray fodder.
Thou art today tossed down
fat with grain.
Teeth sing to poison,
paws dance behind walls
taunting cat's tongue and
my impatient demand
'gainst thy nightly
gnaw gnaw
gnawing

Now brace for leaves.
Tossed from back porch to woods
Thy ballet's done, bitter fey.
Sun's up, swan song,

The cat play thee for a meal!
Wheel the poison again!
Swell fellow's passed on!
Reel, poison, reel!