Small Memoriam - edit

[dukealien]

Small Memoriam


Can anyone feel such sincere regret
for acts which cannot be undone and yet
on balance had to be accomplished?  Pet
he was not, just a common long-tailed mouse
who got inside somehow...  but in my house
that smallest presence made me feel a louse
for plotting his demise.  He’d sit and view
computer movies ‘til I saw him, too,
then run when noticed.  Though I had a few
ideas how to catch him, nothing worked–
he’d lick the bait from traps but never jerked
them hard enough to trigger.  Still he lurked:
declined a private room (my live-catch trap),
approved noir cinema, left tiny crap
on pantry floors, chewed through chips’ Mylar wrap...

I see him from the corner of my eye–
his ghost, it must be, mouse that had to die.
And that is best for him and me, I lie.

original version;

It’s possible to feel sincere regret
for acts which cannot be undone and yet
on balance had to be accomplished.  Pet
he was not, just a common long-tailed mouse
who got inside somehow...  but in my house
companionable, made me feel a louse
for plotting his demise.  He’d sit and view
computer movies ‘til I saw him, too,
then run when noticed.  Though I had a few
ideas how to catch him, nothing worked -
he’d lick the bait from traps but never jerked
it hard enough to snap.  And still he lurked:
made my den his, disdained a live-catch trap,
watched DVDs with me, left tiny crap
on pantry floors, chewed through the Mylar wrap
of chips and croutons, showing his good taste.
I miss him now, for in my and his haste
for solitude and food we laid him waste.

I see him from the corner of my eye–
his ghost, it must be, mouse that had to die.
And that’s what’s best for him and me, I lie.

This is raw, little edited.  A sonnet and a half?

[brynmawr1]

Small Memoriam


It’s possible to feel sincere regret
for acts which cannot be undone and yet
on balance had to be accomplished.  Pet
he was not, just a common long-tailed mouse
who got inside somehow...  but in my house
companionable, made me feel a louse    not sure this word works
for plotting his demise.  He’d sit and view
computer movies ‘til I saw him, too,
then run when noticed.  Though I had a few
ideas how to catch him, nothing worked -
he’d lick the bait from traps but never jerked
it hard enough to snap.  And still he lurked:
made my den his, disdained a live-catch trap,
watched DVDs with me, left tiny crap
on pantry floors, chewed through the Mylar wrap
of chips and croutons, showing his good taste.
I miss him now, for in my and his haste
for solitude and food we laid him waste.   I would leave this implied, ie cut these lines

I see him from the corner of my eye–
his ghost, it must be, mouse that had to die.
And that’s what’s best for him and me, I lie.

This is raw, little edited.  A sonnet and a half?

Hi Duke,

I enjoyed this one.  I just have some basic suggestions at this point.  First, consider making your opening lines a question rather than a statement.  Second, I would recommend trying to streamline the middle focusing on how the mouse became a reluctant (on narrator's part) companion and make the evasion of the narrator's traps light.  It's a good story with a lot of potential which you have mostly realized and made better with a little honing.  I like the ending very much.  I look forward to seeing how you revise.
Take care,
Bryn