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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