Revenge

1 3 3 R R E V E N G E N A T H A N I E L H U T N E R I am not supposed to be writing poetry, I am supposed to be turning up my nose And taking revenge. But where my nose is going There is no air, And revenge is not possible. There is enough revenge already. I wish it were spring again, And even that the rain would come And clean us up. I need a wash. I think a lot, and a wash Would make me feel better. I can hear mice Coming out of the woodwork. They live there in winter And come out at night Looking for food. The cat eats them. I suppose it is instinct. I suppose there is a lot of instinct everywhere, But that is no excuse. ...