They told me not to name the mouse.
That way, no tears would flow
When I stopped its heart beat;
Or when it writhed in pain,
Staring at me with glazed eyes –
Staring at me, betrayed.
That was the one rule I betrayed.
“Your name is Stripes,” I told the mouse,
Melted by his sparkling black eyes.
I traced the silky chocolate flow
Of his fur, taking great pain
To memorize the rhythmic beat
Of his warm pulse; each beat
Wavering the hand that betrayed
A syringe. Past squeaks of pain
I whispered falsehoods to my mouse;
His papery ears twitched to the flow
Of my breath as focus fled his eyes.
Later my deceitful Judas eyes
Watched his paws spasm, beating
The air; fighting the creeping flow
Of sedatives. Soon he would be trayed,
Skin flaps spread as I snapped tiny mouse
Ribs and spine. I was a bearer of pain
Sheltered behind a fume hood pane.
I crucified Stripes; his et tu Brute eyes
Watched me pin martyred mouse
Hands and feet. Razors and scissors beat
Flesh, each cut leaving more organs betrayed.
I slit the heart and watched the blood flow.
Pumping fixatives, I observed their slow flow
Bleach entrails. Only death would end the pain -
Staking procedure. Without emotion betrayed
They’d trade lives for nothing but practice, but I
Was an inadequate scientist told to beat
Back sobs and butcher a lab mouse.
Now, chemicals flow through veins past my passive eyes;
My steady hands stab needles into hearts that still beat.
For, I never betrayed Stripes — It was just a lab mouse.
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