I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice. The bag
opened into darkness,
smoldering
from the top down. The mice,
huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag
across a shorn field. I stood over it
& as the burning reached each carbon letter
of what you'd written
your voice released into the night
like a song, & the mice
grew wilder.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1197 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Nick Flynn
Poem: Bag Of Mice
Volume: Some Ether
Year: Published/Written in 2000
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