Out, Out Damn Spot

Washing my hands with soap, I thought
not of COVID-19 but of Lady Macbeth
scrubbing, scrubbing the invisible blood
on her hands, but it won’t come off.

She surfaced from my subconscious
working overtime to deal with guilt
for having set up a D-CON trap
for the ever-present mice who inhabit

the ridgepole domain in this writing
house, reproducing and defecating
onto my books, desks, me, the floor
until I reached my limit––

I can’t do this anymore!

Even now they’re dying deaths
quick but painful at my hand,
my hands scrubbing, scrubbing
the mouse blood away, but it
won’t come off. It won’t come off.

2 thoughts on “Out, Out Damn Spot

  1. A rat here … pooping and peeing all over our beautiful deck. EVERY. NIGHT. Want it dead … haven’t pulled the trigger as I really don’t want the blood on my hands …but I want it gone… NOW. And a sleeping bat fell out of our umbrella onto my chest and through my shirt … !!! 2020 what gives.


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