The exterminator has taken away
the small carcasses
and left the smell of Lysol
and coiled snap traps
baited with peanut butter.
Your eyes mourn
those tiny missing lives
wanting there to be
a mouse heaven
free from human dominance.
My laughter makes you wince
and cry even harder.
I hold myself open to you
but even
in my most comforting arms
you cannot find
the slightest hint
of comfort.
—
Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.
Zingara Poetry Review 
“I hold myself open to you / but even” … “butt heaven”; that’s hilarious
“Lysol” = lie soul
“you cannot find the slightest hint” … This is about someone who doesn’t know how to read poetry. You can always bait such a person with smoothness (i.e., “peanut butter”).
“Your eyes mourn those tiny missing lives” … This is about reflecting on the could-have-beens … all the little side-lives we coulda shoulda woulda might have wanted to live.
“wanting there to be a mous(s)e heaven” … made of chocolate (and no rules — about dessert, or otherwise)
“I hold myself open to you” … Clever. You are a master line-breaker.
It’s nice to read a sliver of your work again. I’ve missed it.
Please, write me directly.
I did. A couple of weeks ago. You wrote me back.