By Lisa Huddleston


Three blind mice

All pretty nice


One mouse is the oldest

And she thinks she’s the boldest


The next mouse feels unseen

That no one hears her dreams


The third mouse is on a quest

Back to a cozy nest


But all three are the same

Thick glasses in thick frames


Each thinks she sees the best

But none can pass the test


Three blind mice

See how they run


Skitter and scatter

Each one’s truth matters

But none is the truly true one


By Lisa Huddleston

Where do the pieces of a broken heart go?

Do they swim through arteries or evaporate through pores?

One way is kept out of sight but lives forever within

The other is expelled and breathed into the vacant sky

Although I choose to let them go, some jagged shards remain

Piercing my lungs and leaving me gasping for air