Psychology Project

I sat at a nearby desk and watched his tiny opal eyes dart apprehensively
between the monsters towering above.
Their voices were jackhammers drilling out noises
in patterns his mind could not begin to comprehend,
planting in him terror to which a glass barrier
provided little solace.

One girl, the smaller one, with the Cruella De Vil eye shadow,
looked down at the furry oatmeal body quivering beneath the wood shavings,
both of which she purchased from the pet store that sold hamsters only $5 each,
the price of a pair of shoes on sale at the mall.
"It's so ugly," she said, her voice holding a disdainful edge.
"I'm not touching it."

"I'll pick it up!" the large, stupid boy volunteered, reaching one meaty claw
through the rectangle sky.  
Eraser-tip feet shot into motion, scrambling frantically across bedding,
past the water bottle, through the exercise wheel and back again.
The creature's heart hammered Flight of the Bumblebee as he narrowly dodged,
again and again, the clumsy, eyeless bird that had chosen him as prey.

Stiff-whiskered and desperate,
he leapt 'cross the pile of sunflower seed shells
and into the pathetic cardboard mini-box that was his home.
And when that was lifted away and set outside the glass prison
where his freedom had long since been laying,
I wondered how much of an improvement this was over the maze.

Author's Note

True story--one which I was unfortunate enough to witness. The psychology class at my school requires students to spend an entire semester training a hamster to run a maze, so kids are carrying animals around everywhere.