Sorry Notes
by Helen Hagemann
In the morning when I walked outside
it was like stepping back into a previous
spring, one year ago, and counting on ten
fingers the number of mice our male cat
had dropped at the back door. So I wasn’t
surprised this year to see another mouse,
already in rigor mortis, forepaws together
as if in prayer; exhaustion showing on its
face, as if flung from a far universe
and the intensity of a cat’s playful tease.
So now, with notebook and pen, I’m writing
sorry notes to all the dead mice whose souls
must have lifted up that day from their small
graveyard of parsley, basil or mint. And a
final “sorry” to the latest offering, its tiny
grey coat pasted on terracotta; held there for
the author’s pen to record, either from pity or
sympathy, one word the mouse would never hear.
A truly wonderful poem!
Thank you for this one – children are quite capable of extending to a contemplation of death. My 11 year old grandson will appreciate this one. ‘You know Noni it’s not just the cute & stupid that turns us on!’ Robyn Youl.