They say the black-and-golden rodents
look like heavy raindrops in the wind
or like so many coals small burning through the sky.
Did you know they’re fringe flesh-waves
oceanic trying to fit a shallow bowl?
Squeeze or jump, push or fly, die
or die, and I’ve been told, and I now know
too well how lemming-like my mind,
chasing off a cliff these thoughts of you,
or being chased, can be.
Watch me run and leap! near-beautiful,
my twisting in the air, as if
I were an artist or an acrobat, and not
a dumb brown rodent flailing in despair, wild-eyed
and only half aware of where I am.