a prayer to holy arsenic-- 
poisoned pancakes, glue-trap matresses
and other ways to exterminate the humans

the trick is to get them early--
in the weak morning of winter when
they are still baking themselves
into the kitchen-- burn the night
in sugar cookie crumbs and don't
believe the smell of pine cones--
humans will take you house down
shingle by shingle if you let
them-- they overturn a winter
and pray the mice away in arsenic--
my father contorted in the corner
of the basement-- a knot of
darkened skin and saliva thick 
with blood--
we asked if he had eaten 
from the dishes of the humans
and all he could say was
of course
of course
of course 
this is the mice's prayer to the 
white and baby powdered hands of 
arsenic--
make me a host of the poison 
and i'll tell them it's Jesus--
that's all the humans want anyway--
a savior--
a way to keep the mice from the 
warm cement of the basement--
our children know nothing
of what it would be like
to eat without fear--
we sleep with the image of
our father coiled in the basement--
begging for enough water
to wash the rat poison from 
his body--
come with me we'll harvest
their gods--
collect poison to give 
back-- a fist full of poison
to add to the pancake batter
in the fridge--
the little ones did not
sleep well and they asked
what humans looked like when they
died-- i had hoped they would look
like my father did in the basement--
or all our tails caught frantic
in the long beds of glue--
i wanted them to have to sleep
like that too--
try to lift their head only
to see the walls were turning
into mice-- mice feet
mice tails-- mail whiskers 
to bristle on the their faces--
it is true we should not poison
the humans--
our mother said
especially not after you father
died like a shadow of blood in
the corner--
instead, while the sun was still
on dying batteries,
we made them chairs of
glue-- chairs and bed and sofa
and tables and banisters--
a world of glue traps--
smashed the pancake mix against the kitchen 
floor like a firework--
next jam jars and 
the human's vessels for wine--
the floor a collage of our worship
of poison--
we knew what god looked like 
even if the humans didn't--
the house woke up in paralysis--
in faces towards ceilings--
unmoved and watching--
trapped like our tails-- 
a scream bubbled in the throat
of the sun--
what did the humans learn about
the basement?
i would assume they believe
it was the arsenic
and not the mice peeling our
shadows off the basement wall
where we had died--
mouths full of poison--
feel cut with raspberry
jam and wine glass.