Poem by Wendell Hawken

May 15, 2023

Glue Trap

Don’t do that!
He had heard
drowning peaceful
but now can say—
having been pinned
under a golf cart
in pond muck,
rescuers splashing,
his limbs unmoving,
lungs filling
with scum—
it is not.
Told of
a glue-stuck scrum 
mice held alive
by foot or tail,
how one mouse
fixed his eyes on his,
sentient to sentient,
as my son slipped
the glue-board
into the water bucket.
Said that one mouse
flashed in his mind
when he was
pinned in the pond.

About Wendell Hawken

Wendell Hawken earned her MFA in Poetry at the Warren Wilson College decades after her bachelor’s degree. Publications include three chapbooks and five full collections. Hawken lives on a grass farm in the northern Shenandoah Valley.