I saw a rat, her eyes as black as the night which kept her safe. Under a gibbous moon we stood in peace. I tried to break the ice by asking how the foraging was (mine had not been so successful); but I received no answer. She stood, rigid and straight like a pencil, but with a supple life in her dark glass eye.

Our attention was caught by intruders: one before and one behind. We scurried away.

I am like the mushroom: more animal than plant, but neither. Homeless on the Great Tree of Life, servant of no kingdom, but bunking in its boughs, sleeping in its interstices. Et tu, Rattus: you thrive and you feed in the cool, damp, dark places. So please, tell me this: What do you dream? and when? What tall tales make you twitch in your nest?

And that chainlink fence: how do you scale it to sniff the air?


One Response to “Rat”

  1. Oooh I like this

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