A Poem on the Australian Mice Plague, by Norma Pain

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To the Residents Down Below

I am a bookish kind of rat
And like each rat before me,
I’ve come to the conclusion that
There’s few folks that adore me.
Although I feel that this is wrong,
I try to be pragmatic,
I’d like us just to get along
While we stay in your attic.

“Why our roof?” We hear you cry,
But would you wish us homeless?
Its cozy warm and nice and dry
And full of fine aromas.
It’s not as if you use this space,
We don’t deserve this stigma,
We’ve yet to set eyes on your face,
You’re truly an enigma.

You never venture in the roof
To pay a friendly visit.
In fact we find you quite aloof,
Which isn’t kind now is it?
We all agree your attitude
Is clearly symptomatic,
And evidence of your bad mood
Cause we live in your attic.

We really need to get along
And learn to live together.
Forget the constant battle song
And raise the pure white feather.
Don’t shout and scream each time we crawl,
Don’t act melodramatic,
We hardly make a noise at all,
On this we are emphatic.

We’ll thank you not to make a fuss,
Please grasp our situation.
To you it’s dirty… but to us
Its fine accommodation.
Our children need a place to live,
A place that’s free from harm,
And though a trifle primitive,
Your roof works like a charm.

My family has one small request,
And no… it’s not for flowers.
We really need to get some rest,
During daylight hours.
We try to sleep… you move about,
By day you should be static,
Perhaps you could just move on out,
This would be diplomatic.

And then when nighttime shadows sweep
And all is dark and still,
You lie down and try to sleep,
Of your own free will.
Obviously, you must know
That this gets problematic,
At night we practice Tai-Kwon-Do
And coitus in your attic.

Go forth… go forth… and multiply!
Is definitely our creed,
So when our hunger you deny,
For comfort we must breed.
A little show of sympathy
Would be so very kind,
Especially since my family
Is practically blind.

You see we suffer greatly
From a lack of good nutrition,
While inappropriately
You’re like pigs without remission.
It is a situation that
We’re finding quite traumatic,
As you continue to get fat
While we starve in the attic.

It’s clear that our inherent
Dispositions do not blend,
Your species is aberrant
And your habits do offend.
We’re making no apology,
We thought you’d be ecstatic,
To have fine rodents such as we
Residing in your attic.

Perhaps you could live more like us
And rest during the day,
Completing chores at night and thus,
Things might work out okay.
And then some morsels left about,
If you would be so kind.
So we don’t have to go without,
Thanks, from the undersigned.

Rat

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Norma Pain was born in Liverpool, England and now lives in Parksville, British Columbia, Canada. Thirty of Norma’s poems were published by Dana Literary Society, between 2004 and 2007 and she was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize by that same on-line poetry site. She self-published a book of rhyme in 2000 called Bulging Assets.