We killed the mice this morning
harvested their organs for observing
what life is all about
broken down into the molecular cloud
but what is a life in a tube
when a heart was beating gently smooth
just two minutes ago
before its place in a row
with sixteen other pieces of fur and flesh and bone
they had no way to take flight
from scalpel and knife
from scalpel and knife
into some spectral plane of thought
i myself have so hungrily sought--
a world of comfort and meaning
that gives me reason for surviving
Maybe i am a mouse too
who runs believing time will never end until
a breeze blows me away
into oblivion.