NaPoWriMo #4

The rat room of the lab was small and smelled

like hot skin and pellets. There was a bench

in case you got tired. Once my dad gave

mouth to mouth to a dying rat and this chivalry

defined him until he told me he needed

it to live.  Whenever I need a break I go to the

widow's walk and try not to spit on people.  I've 

always felt most at home among leaves.  Especially

at dusk up there do I feel this sense of going back.

I think about the bat my dachshund killed, my ex-husband

saying "I don't think you want to come in here"

with the bat blood everywhere and the dog

staring at me with her true nature revealed.  There

were all kinds of showdowns then, biological

and otherwise, and usually I ended up crying

at a salad bar or smoking in a tank top

on the porch to show my neighbors how wizened

I had become. It was important to show things,

not as they really were, but through the double life

I seem to need in order to keep repeating things.