the mouse

the black
cat
doesn't mind the rain.
there are plenty
of cars
and sewers
to duck under or in.
she doesn't cry
or sing,
she purrs.
her long matted
hair black
as oil
her bottle green
eyes are startling
before the sun
goes down.
your headlight
catches them as you
pull away or.
the saucer of milk
you set out
is never licked, or
bothered with.
it's the mouse she carries
in her white
tight lips
that concerns her
now.