Rats! Where are the rats in New York poems?
Every New York poet sees a rat weekly
But where are the rats in New York poets' poems?
When I take my garbage into the alley
Next to my building, a rat big as a cat
Waddles into the giant black rat-trap:
"The rats think the traps are for shelter,"
Says my super, "when it's raining or someone
Like you messes with their territory."
Waiting for the "F"train at 14th & 6th,
I watch rats scramble along the tracks,
Dining on garbage tossed there by riders,
The same riders whose hair stands on end
And breath cuts short when a rat scurries
Along the platform where it meets the wall,
Scattering folks waiting for the next train
To Brooklyn, where rats nest in Prospect Park
And pour out of brownstones under renovation,
Big fat juicy rats, prime rats sleek as eels,
With jaws strong as a pit bull's and tails
Wiry as water moccasins.
This is a New York poem and it's filled
With rats in every stanza the way a New
York poem ought to be: Do you smell a rat?
George Held