The Bath of Birds

My sister Joy and I email each other nearly every day.  It's a delight to wake up in the morning to her words.  Yesterday we wrote about our mutual disregard for rats.  Joy and I are big animal lovers, but the rat is a creature we both abhor, for various reasons.  Our rat chat led me to write a poem today about rats.  It's based on some true events that occurred here on High Street when we went on sabbatical and #1 Son lived in our home for a year.  Come to find out, #1's ideas about how homes should look and feel differed from our ideas on this same topic.  Maybe things have changed with #1 Son, maybe not.  But it's all water under the bridge.  At any rate, here's a mean poem I wrote about rats.  With apologies to rat fans.

You've haunted my 

sister

 and you've

chewed through 

our basket of 

cozy blankets

left for wintry tv watching

Oh hated vermin

run to the darkest part 

of the basement

and feast on the poison 

we've hidden there

We see you 

stagger out

your throat 

on fire

as you drag

your body into

the bath of birds

You lay there 

refusing to move

and

refusing to die

Leave our clutter be

we will not 

share

we will not 

tell you again

we will not

let you in