wasser b. maus

i stole dis pome fum mi hoomin. itz aboud a mowsee hoo lernz 2 reed.

The Adventures of Wasser B. Maus

(a poem in which the mouse is not killed or mangled)

Part I

wherein Maus awakens to possibilities

He lives between the walls in their cozy insulation,

with convenient entry halls to human habitation.

He holds his breath to scuttle through the people-byways,

his movements quick and subtle to avoid an errant eyegaze,

between the beams and up the pipe towards the second floor,

through a crack thin as a stripe into the corridor.

He searches in the bedroom closet for a scrap of wool

to make his nest more like a womb, and so, more comfortable.

The leaky faucet in the bath is always good for drink;

he opts instead to slide the path down to the kitchen sink.

He pauses at his hoard to nod approval at the nice

hole he chewed through the board to reach this paradise.

Crackers, cookies, bread galore -- nuts and biscuits, too --

what little mouse could want for more? Wasser Maus, is who!

He feels his life is incomplete, though peaceful as you please.

And even if he is replete with life’s necessities,

he lacks a certain something -- a challenge to the mind,

a quest, a song, a glimmering -- something undefined.

He ponders and he wonders and he searches in his soul

until his poor head thunders, but nothing will console.

So he tidies up his nesting place and adds the wool he found,

cleans his whiskers and his face and washes all around.

He sinks down with two heavy sighs, a paw beneath his head,

starts to close his sad black eyes, but looks about instead.

Through a chink between the bricks, an ivory moon is shining

on the shredded paper fixed to make a soft bed lining.

He studies all the headlines, both upsidedown and sideways,

but cannot understand the signs. They’re Rat to him, as always.

“I know these marks mean something. Maybe they’re a spell.

“They’re everywhere on everything -- inside at times, as well!”

Maus wonders at the use of the circles and the swoops,

the crosses and the curliques, the many lines and loops.

The twirly swirly spots of ink are through the whole household.

They’re even on the kitchen sink where water drips from C-O-L-D.

But in the bath where drips are hot, they fall from – “Dear! Oh my!”

Maus jumps to his feet like he’s been shot, squeezes shut one eye.

He holds the insight tightly, and his breath until he’s pale.

“If I’m thinking rightly,” he pauses to exhale,

“C-O-L-D must stand for cold, and H-O-T is surely hot.

N-U-T-S are like pure gold, while P-E-P-P-E-R’s doubtless not!

Oh, wasted hours that I spent on caps inside the cupboard!

If I’d known then what M-A-R-M-I-T-E meant, I’m sure I wouldn’t have bothered!”

Deep inside his wakened heart, excitement starts to spin,

and Wasser Maus feels a dart of pure adrenalin

as he recalls a tiny booklet in the baby’s nursery,

with words and pictures typeset in lessons short and cursory.

He scampers to the viaduct leading to that room,

clambers through the airduct, into its dusty gloom.

Through the vent, across the floor, lies the reading manual.

He turns the pages to explore the letters academical.

An apple for the letter A. B, there is a bat.

C shows him a cat at play – he shies a bit at that.

D is for a dog, chasing thoughts of cat away.

E is for some eggnog, then F for flower spray.

G is for the goblin-gawks -- whatever could they be?!

H is for a cast of hawks, wheeling high and free.

Then on to I, an igloo. J is for a jacket.

K is for a kangaroo, and L is for a locket.

M is for the milkman. N pictures a nail.

O is for an ottoman, while P stands for a pail.

A quilt is featured next to Q. R introduces rain.

S is for a screw, and T is for a train.

Unicorn begins with U. V is Victory Day.

W for wallaroo, and X is for x-ray.

Y is yarn, and Z is zoo -- just when he’d thought it endless!

But now he’s learned, what can he do, considering he’s penless?

Back inside the kitchen, he stops at a report

lying on the countertop next to the chocolate torte.

Milk, he reads, Tea & Crumpets, Eggs and Bacon, too...

Jam & Honey, Beef Croquettes, Dumplings for the Stew...

Broccoli, Corn, and Sweets to Nibble, Lemons and some Capers...

Why, Maus wonders, do they scribble all these things on papers?

Carrots, Peas, Potatoes (Red), Salt and Cooking Fat...

“I hope they don’t forget the bread, cos we need more of that!”

Maus freezes as he understands what this list is for,

then does a jumpy joyful dance thinking of one more

item he might add to it of proper lunch material.

He rushes to the cabinet to find the A-B-Cereal.

He burrows in this letter box for those that fill his need,

then puts them under Lox & Bagels, Apples, and Birdseed.

He glues them into place with a bit of chocolate icing.

Now he’s backing up a pace, admiring his first writing.

Very sleepy, full of pride, Maus leaves behind his clutter.

Sometime soon, he’s satisfied, he’ll have PEENIT BUHTER.

There never was, nor could there be,

a mouse who was as smart as he.