The Rat
or Fear
Rat pokes its head from out the shadows.
Letting its nose barely hit the pooled light on the sidewalk.
My arm and neck hair stands on end.
My bowels tighten and I taste copper in my mouth.
I see only his head, looking brown, soft and velvety in the late night half light.
Is he sinewy and and wiry, or sleek and glossy,
or fat and slow from feasting many nights on
the leavings of our waste?
Is this the one that leaves his droppings in lieu of ours?
Is he the spreader of disease
(and the stealer of cheese)?
The one that people run from
evil and mean
who would gnaw on our bones if we
couldn't
wouldn't
lift a hand
to stop him from desecrating our holiness?
Rat pokes its head from out the shadows.
Letting its nose barely hit the pooled light on the sidewalk.
My arm and neck hair stands on end.
My bowels tighten and I taste copper in my mouth.
I look closer
He's just a leaf, hung on a web
wind blowing back and forth.
Into the light.