Yesterday, before breakfast, I decapitated a rat.
Rather, I should say, I cut its body from its head.
I guess it was a reverse decapitation.
You see, its head was stuck in a trap on one side of a fence,
and its body was dangling from my side.
I had a boyfriend who looked like a rat and a
rat named Poe, at the same time. He was a fry cook,
and maybe the rat was, too, in his last life.
I used to hold rats gently as a child, the same way I held this one,
when I wrapped its body in a plastic bag. Seeing the tail made me jump.
I walked around the block and told Robert he had a rat head in his trap,
explaining that I had to go all Aron Ralston on it with a pair of dull scissors.
I’m impressed, he said. I smiled and smoothed my hair back, feeling proud.
He asked, did you get a haircut? Yes, but I wanted an a-line.
I made slicing motions in the air to show how
I would have liked it cut.