Читать книгу Let’s Not Live on Earth - Sarah Blake - Страница 16

RATS

It’s difficult to tell

rats are in the basement.

They’re so quiet.

We go to bed so early.

After midnight, they

crawl out of a tunnel

and go to the neighbor’s

birdfeeder and pond.

I imagine their bodies

in the moonlight,

the reflection of their

small faces in the pond

over the ledge

of flagstones.

After the poison

is placed in our rafters,

we tell the neighbors

the rats might feel

sick and go for water

and die in their pond.

I can see that too.

I looked up pictures

of rats so I can

see them in any

compromised position,

like the naked woman

we can all call up

for any crime

in the news. Just as

I can see them,

the rats now, in

positions of success,

quiet and warm in a nest

between my floorboards.

Their faces the same

in victory and death.

Small as the red globe

grapes that leave

my mouth so sweet

this summer.