In a charming woodland dell
A family of field mice
Has nested in my skull.
Daddy Mouse goes out to work
And Mummy bakes the bread
Young Tim and Tina love to play
In what’s left of my head.
They've furnished it with twigs and moss
And made my jaw their seat.
My eyes are glazed with yellow leaves
To let in light and heat.
They neither know nor care for me,
Who called this place my home,
Nor hear the thoughts that echoed once
Within its walls of bone,
And if I ever haunt their dreams
I'm gone by break of day:
Where I once lodged they have freehold:
I ask no leave to stay.
Oh, how I wish that this, my skull,
Were put to better use!
I don’t resent the field mice, though -
At least they've an excuse.
I may disdain their bourgeois lives
And wish to give advice -
So heteronormative! So dull!
But then, they're only mice.