A Better Mousetrap

Cloo, cloo, cloo is said softly

but no one hears it,

for of course pigeons live in the eaves.

Cleep, cleep, cleep is said quickly

but no one hears it,

for of course sparrows live in the trees.

Paper-headed chickens hang by their feet

above a counter of half-frozen seafood

and of course their blood doesn't drip

on the lobsters with pegs in their claws.

Tree-squares and row house

are plaited into an asphalt street

with now and then the glitter

of a mortared mica chip.

A stony fretwork of steel

braces up the subway walls

and clamps a five-trestled bridge

down upon a dull gray river

which sucks at an orange peel

with the mouth of a half-crushed mouse.

Jean Fartey