And how are the rats doing in the maze?
The gray one in a baggy fur coat
Appears dazed, the rest squeeze past him
Biting and squealing.

A pretty young attendant has him by the tail.
She is going to slit him open.
The blade glints and so do the beads
Of perspiration on her forehead.

His cousins are still running in circles.
The damp, foul-smelling sewer
Where they nuzzled their mother’s teat
Is what they hope to see at the next turn.

Already she’s yanked his heart out,
And he doesn’t know what for?
Neither does she at this moment
Watching his eyes glaze, his whiskers twitch.