THE FLYING SQUIRREL

The first trap held a leg.

The flesh gnawed at the knee

And pulled out at the hip.

The denuded femur

A translucent white,

Needle thin bone, so frail

Compared to the steel

Will displayed.

The second held a corpse.

A delicate, large eyed

Flyer, broken by the

Copper snap.

The blood stained fur

And missing leg told

The story well enough.

I removed the tiny body

Held it in my palm

And weighed its fate.

A ladle of pig iron

on the foundry trunnion

could not tip the scale.

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