The rats

Rats, an infestation
Chewing wires I'd left exposed
Only yesterday, when stifled by low cloud
They fled
Perhaps tired or scared? of what they'd seen
From unlit attics behind my blinds
To basement deep in guts asleep.
Maybe they entered when I roamed the streets
In muck alleys I called a home
Riding in pockets emptied by thieves
I should've listened to their lengthening cries
When days failed to let me out
And night hatched vermin streams
Their screaming scurries
Forced lights to flash, sirens to ring, and
One afternoon, they descended
Drainpiped my spine, slid from trousered legs
Scattered more across a psychiatrist's floor
In which we both sat, between questions
And I was knots of snot, drooped lead for a head
Until words became dry and missing
Until only 'l' remained.

The rats. I see them still.
Wise as owls.
Multiplying in the heat of others
Just longing to be found.