Streaming

Everything ends in rats, I’ve decided. Everything. They’re creatures that belong to the end, and they bring the end with them. Can they get into the shower?, asks my Visitor. No, they can’t. 9 inches of brick separate us from them. Can they crawl from the gaps into the floorboards into the bathroom? Not that, either – there’s 5 foot of air above the mud under floorboards for the rats to scale. And then the brick that separates them from that under-floorboard space. We’re safe from the rats, inside.

They busy themselves in the drains. Are they dying? Have they eaten the poison? Rats eat in little bits, I learn. A little, and then they wait; and then a little more. Which means poison must seem innocuous, neutral. It’s kept deliberately weak. And acts slowly – over 1-3 days. And how many days is it now? A full one and a half.

Are they dying or thriving, there on the other side of the wall? At night you can hear them squeaking, a kind of strangled birdsong. Once, I opened the door and saw them all, 3 of them, dashing into the space by the pipes they’ve made their nest. 3 of them, as though made of liquid, streaming back. 2 big ones, and a little one, young, streaming. And that’s where they keep themselves, in the box-like construction around the pipes.

They’re disgusting!, says my Visitor. Don’t you think they’re disgusting? But I don’t, particularly. They’re creatures of the end and after the end, I think to myself. They’ve seen what’s going to happen and they’re ready.