He Considers Possible Traitors

To explain the poison that frequently enslaves me,

it may be necessary to explore the way I feel

about vermin in the walls. For months I believed

that the sounds were from squirrels

eating acorns, making winter quarters

within the roof of this cheap brick building,

and I did not begrudge them their shelter.

Then suddenly I noticed an impossible sound.

What is this echoing through the drywall?

Raw ugly tails? Long tongues that would rob me?

I can never be sure if these beasts are indeed within my home,

waiting for a brief absence to take advantage,

oh, but I hear them and they are running so quickly

and I think of punching very quickly through the wall:

I will grab the rat by the torso, squeeze lightly,

and pitch it into the ground like a gauntlet

(if one has seen any animal killed by blunt trauma before,

the picture is easily painted).

I think that it might be unreasonable to destroy my home

merely because I suspect that these disease-ridden creatures exist,

but my love tells me that she sometimes hears the bastards, too.

I am not an unfair man, and I know that all animals make mistakes,

so if they remember their place on the outskirts I will not poison them.

I sit and hone my knives. A thief should always expect to lose a hand.