Wednesday, 22 September 2010

Poem a day, 22: September 22nd 2010

Nobody saw him, the fly-covered rat,
but still he lay crying:
I was much closer than you thought
and not rotting but dying.

Poor rat, he always loved rabble-rousing
and now he’s breathing his last.
He must have eaten poison on the banks of the river
and crawled up here to the grass.

Oh, no no no, it was poison always
(still the dead rat lay crying)
I was much too hungry all my life
and not rotting but dying.

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