Why do I ask where to go
When caught like the wolf
Who licks an eskimo's sword?
The tree that my parents put me in,
That had too many branches,
Doesn't have so many anymore
But copies of those bloodied blades.
The tallest branches were the first to go;
Those raised balconies in the sky.
Maybe I should wash my clothes
And offer them to that star and cloud contradiction; I only
Make them dirty and they tear at the seams;
They never were too good a quality.
I can package myself away until someone has a use for me.
Yes sir, this coffin will do fine. Or
Should I push my vegetarian flesh
Through a meat-mincer to be sold
As an alternative to peanuts and popcorn?
My shouted beg has dissolved
Into the four walls.
Sandy Player's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Mouse Trapped by Sandy Player )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- As I Grew Older, Langston Hughes
- I Dream A World, Langston Hughes
- Mother to Son, Langston Hughes
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Let America be America Again, Langston Hughes
- I, Too, Langston Hughes
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Democracy, Langston Hughes
Poem of the Day
- The World as we know, Sylvia Chidi
- Running from love, Sylvia Chidi
- Love, Dr Mohua Golder Golder
- Be young at heart, Nero CaroZiv
- And indeed death has a domain, Daisy Pereira
- Listening to the radio in the Afternoon, Angell Afinowi
- We Want Democracy, Now., Norman Jin Shyr Wang
- Cantus lacrimosus, Angell Afinowi
- Rest My Dear, Michael P. McParland
- Life's like a compote of the desserts, Mark Heathcote