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Hawk and Mouse

A red-tailed hawk swoops from the telephone pole,
Glides above the marshy stand of cattails, stalking mice.
The god of his particular world. I try to turn him into
a reminder to myself–something about the beauty of nature.
Impossible today. I worry about those mice and can’t let go
of the moment I’m replaying as I drive home
—the boy who assured me he doesn’t care if
he passes her class,if he never graduates,
doesn’t care about anything at all, is aggressive
in his Loud Declaration that he just doesn’t care.
I wish I could tell him to lay down
those twin weapons of aggression and apathy
which do not serve him well
but he is not a boy who Listens to Advice.
I wish I could warn him about the hawk,
but he is one unhappy mouse in the world–
not the kind who hums through his days,
not the one who cowers in the high weeds,
afraid that every shadow might be the hawk.
No, this boy would be the mouse who
pounds his fist against the base of the telephone pole
shouting up to the hawk, Just try and catch me,
See if I care. He is the mouse who will still be criticizing
the world below
as the hawk carries him away.

2 responses »

  1. whoa! great poem! *fantastic* last line!!!!!
    >>He is the mouse who will still be criticizing the world below as the hawk carries him away.

    as for the Boy Who Won’t Listen to Advice… he’s a poet, and there is something to be said for poets who go their own way. 🙂 may he be blessed! 🙂

    Reply

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