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.
Bag Of Mice
Nick Flynn
(1)
Poem topics: baby, night, song, voice, field, brown, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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