Field Mouse
It was found in Spring prunings,
left to rot by the cat.
Lifted gingerly by its tail,
and the woman who put it in a paper bag
felt the shiver of carrion
before she smelled the scent of flesh.
This was not unlike other days
spent putting on blush and powder
in the suburbs.
Perhaps the woman realized
in her kinship with the dead,
in her love of cats and the petted life,
how much she had in common
with other creatures.
Shrews. Goblins.
She was soft, that woman, and small-boned.
How to say the truth without scolding?
How sally forth into the world
without a snout and a temper?
Bio: Judith Skillman’s tenth book, “Heat Lightning, New and Selected Poems 1986 – 2006, “ was published by Silverfish Review Press. Skillman is the recipient of grants and awards from the Academy of American Poets, King County Arts Commission, and Washington State Arts Commission. She has done residencies at Centrum and has contributed poems to journals such as FIELD, JAMA (Journal of the American Medical Association), The Iowa Review, and The Midwest Quarterly. An educator, editor, and translator, Judith lives in Kennydale, Washington.