RAT WARS
Part I
Rat Wars & the Shapeshifter
During my first Rat War
I became the fastest
shapeshifter.
Currents ran through the middle of me,
each neon green
shivering channel
of the brightest light
without a sound
knocked my teeth out
but never my socks.
I wouldn’t dare let my feet touch the ground.
The first rat I saw
snapped in half,
he was screaming
his tiny claws held up
over his heart
mouth wide open.
I became a mystic.
Now, I am cursed.
I have wronged the Rat Clan.
I became a vigilante
a healer a saint
a good little kid.
That night, I was summoned into their laire.
My baby’s empty room.
I was no longer a mother.
Insane with fear and insomnia,
I waited with black gloves and a flashlight.
I will not harm you
I know you’re here
I will listen
I will wait
I will set you free.
1 murdered + 1 freed = fuck off now. We’re even.
I became a witch.
Whispers from noplace
told me lavender oil
I sprayed it into the radiator
and his cuzzin jumped out
like a raging rocket
the shittiest firework ever
(I named him Jet)
and shot right into the plastic barrel I set
-immediately began pissing himself,
so I became a Disney Pocahontas.
Speaking gently it’s okay I won’t hurt you
sorry about your cuzzin, Benny,
that was never my idea.
Walking into darkness down an alley
reminded me of my old life
before I became a house mother.
I was a street person.
I mean, I loved the night.
Manhattans in bars alone
reading poems by candlelight
loving the shadows and words
watching them bend
black trenchcoat
Amsterdam Shag
no sight of a boyfriend.
Now just look at me.
Singing baby Michael Jackson’s song “Ben”
to a rat in a shoebox.
I became a Bodhisattva in the bushes.
When I told him, go! You’re free!
this bastard tried to bite me
ON THE WAY OUT.
People: as a rule:
don’t ever bite on the way out.
Now I am searching for my ancestors.
So I make calls to Native poets who stay up late
smoking cigarette butts.
She says fuck the rat clan. Kill em all.
The other says
Rats are colonizers, too, you know.
They ain’t from this land.
They came here on ships.
Fuck em. Kill em all.
I became filled
with venom and vengeance.
Not just for the rats
But most of mankind.
A biologist came over and said
your landlord told you that rats can’t CLIMB?
So it’s safe for your baby to come home?
Those lying bastards
What do they think a ROOF RAT IS?
So I became a baby.
Without my baby
I took her place.
I wiped the warpaint off my face
(makeup, glitter, stick-on earrings)
turned on her dinosaur egg night light.
It shoots out neon green stars onto the ceiling.
The voltage is still blazing through me
like a Ghostbusters lasso
I hold onto her bunny and I don’t let go.
***
PT 2
featuring a full cast of big names
and a kiss from 12 years ago
This one has no name because I never met him.
He had been dead for days
before I recognized
the furry, ancient fumes
of flayed, halved and gutted rat.
This dumb shit crawled into a black box
a peanut butter treasure chest.
Apparently, maggots attended.
Circle of life, the fly mothers
laughed and sashayed away
in their hideous zigzag,
barbed hands on hips.
Today I created a makeshift
desk and chair for my daughter
and sat, crisscrossapplesauce
since the rats ate my couch
watching her sit
ever so quietly, with true focus,
one tiny hand holding the paper
the other, a crayon
just the way a crayon wants to be held
taking sips of plain water.
I thought
I am watching a writer,
an artist, in that world
where no one else belongs
and I cried.
Because this particular world
is a lonesome one.
***
Down the endless hallway,
on our way to the end
of another endless day
I look down and see
a wolf spider
the size of my palm.
I hate spiders worse than I hate rats.
Iktomi and warnings of
impending danger,
health issues,
death?
With otherworldly calm
I said out loud, NO.
Una dropped her crayons.
I smashed the monster
with one from a pair of Vans.
He resisted. I beat the shit out of this thing.
My heart didn’t even flutter.
I swear,
if I opened the door to our room
and Reagan (possessed by Zebu
or whoever the hell demon that was)
popped up in bed like a jack n the box
I would say, wussup gurl?
Let’s get you outta them
puke pajamas
I’ll tell Alexa to play some
Sufjan Stevens
and get you a bath.
I can actually see her
titling her crusty face
and giving it up.
—all of y’all better do the same.
My love will make you tired.
There will always be something you missed.
Give up and let me go.
Rats
Spiders
Demons
-Meh.
Exorcist Girl’s Amusement, her smile
Michael Myers’ Boring Indifference
Freddy’s Bad Jokes
Adult Men Who Steal Bikes
Alcohol Spirit
Gas Station Dream Catchers
(a real yikes)
Good lord:
Lying Judges
Lying Lawyers
CPS, The Baby Snatchers
You clowns can all fall
outta your clown car,
which we all know
is my bedroom closet.
And the Christian God/Jesus/Punisher,
you can fall outta the sky.
I hope you trip on your slippers
when you get down here.
The real baddie
is below,
not above me.
It is hiding,
right now—
under my bed.
Remembering The Last Time I Was Kissed
by someone
who actually
loved me.
***
(Featured image by wallsdontlie; used under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)