484 B
484 B
in the backyard with dad, who insists on releasing a mouse from a glue trap into the backyard, and i, with the hose, having dirtied brand new shoes, which mom and i bought on pilgrimage to jc penney. the mouse stares at me with omniscience, wriggling against sightless demons. she limped off - lime green glue matted into her fur - i thought to leave her for the vultures, and the tomcats, but i knew her name and brushed mud off suede in the kitchen sink. you live, and i die again.