INVADER

Got nothing against

them, they have a right

to exist, I just can't

tolerate their ilk

taking shelter here. This

is where I live—my

home. They're dirty;

I have a duty

to defend my family.

After I flooded

a burrow in the yard

one turned up

in the house. We packed

all the dry food

in the kitchen

into plastic

containers, woke

to find them

shredded and scattered.

That's when we knew

no harmless wee

mouse was this. Our kid

just a baby,

we were scared

it might visit

his crib at night.

It bored a hole

through the baseboard

back of the fridge,

clearly had a track

between there and

the plumbing under

the sink. We bought

warfarin, snap traps,

we went on alert.

Third night of its

occupation, I heard

a rustle from

the cupboards. I slipped

on my loafers

and crept into

the kitchen. I swung

the door below the sink

open and the crinkling

stopped. Behind cartons

of bin bags, rags

and cleaning supplies,

I sensed it was there.

I kicked a box,

out it flew, I brought

my foot down

and trapped it,

belly-up, struggling.

Her teats were bulging—

she must have been

gravid. My heart

beat hard, I pressed

down harder, her body

as large as my size-ten

loafer, repulsive

skinny tail a good

six inches extra.

I bore down on her

until damn sure

she was no longer

breathing, then dumped

the dam and her unborn

pups in the green bin.