might have been congenital
but the loss of empennage
was a product of their environment
and one crazed farmer’s wife
who as a means of attenuating stress
truncated their tails
with a sharply honed carving knife.
There must be a reasonable explanation,
probably a day of frustration
escalated by the sound of rain on the roof;
ten days of spring showers
and the faucet’s constant dripping,
not to mention the laundry stacked high
in the corner, and somewhere in the back
of her mind the realization that her old boyfriend
buys Botticelli’s and sips vintage wine
for a living.
Those little rodents are lucky
she didn’t think of evisceration.