61
Days
I can spot the suffering ‘longside the willpower,
all along
the bus lines. (Smile, baby, the weeks are long in my head – )
I need a patch of steel wool, split-second clairvoyance.
trying to roll under the basement door. . . the rats are comin’, it’s a one man show.
behind there, rustling, as I sit here on the couch; with its loose fur and awful tail. Fuck! Just heard another one
in there, literally, trying to stuff them out. But I can hear one, now,
a hole above the floor between the dishwasher and stove. I’ve been stuffing books
The rats are comin’, from the alley out back. Peeking through
Jonas Kyle-Sidell
Take the Night