Rat Poison

Eamon Grennan

When the rat had come back to the attic and woke him to its scratching 
        at the poison he’d laid that would be its bane for sure he felt no pity 
for a death that had to happen but only some dread or antique horror 
        at having the close space above his head invaded and so shared 
by a creature of such sharp dark-fixed intent who would obey its own 
        ravening appetite and bright teeth and eat him out of house and home 
by gnawing to the bone each tingling terrified toothsome morsel.