Jane, this, too, was something I made some time ago, but it fits so well with your image that I'll post it.
Small Rodents, Dead
Each pose is different. A murdered vole
lies in a frozen dive, its tiny legs
stretched fore-and-aft in a flat capriole.
A rat seems only sleeping, soft and slack;
there is no malice in it any more,
a brief apology might bring it back.
Two shrews lie face-to-face, their fists clenched tight
frozen forever in a punch-up pose
as though not going down without a fight.
A broken mouse, with its one teacup ear
still spread to catch the warning that it missed
and half-ball eye still shimmering with fear.
Felis Domesticus has done its worst.
Which fallen hero shall I bury first?
I actually find it hard to respond with a new poem when a promp calls to mind one that I have already written. Your last image was new to me, but this one seems familiar, as if illustrating the above poem.
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