A mouse went to see his mother. When his car broke down he bought a bike. When the bike wore out he bought skates. When the skates wore down he ran. He ran until his sneakers wore through. Then he walked. He walked and walked, almost walked his feet through so he bought new ones. His mother was happy to
sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox
real poem (personal statement)
I skim sadness like fat off the surface
of cooling soup. Don't care about
metaphor but wish it would arrive
me. There’s a cool current of air
this hot day I want to ride.
I have no lover, not even my love.
I have no other, not even I.
Rachel Zucker's poetry collections include The Pedestrians (Wave Books, 2014), Museum of Accidents (Wave Books, 2009), and The Bad Wife Handbook (Wesleyan University Press, 2007).