I Know the Way Out

Scurrying rat, I am here among all of the things
Your species leaves behind: the mounds of
Whatever was irresistible, wrappers and
Magazines, rags and machines. I can live
Among these, but you want me to die.
I look into your eyes as you leave out your
Poisons and traps, and I wonder, why do
You try to keep me from the things that
You no longer want? I don't think that you
Know. If you do, you won't say. It is best
That I scurry away.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 49 times
Written on 2010-07-18 at 13:21

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