The Ratcatcher
Quinlan Finnegan
I take no solace in this job.
People call me up,
City folks:
Folks that sneer from their continentals
At me, folks that look down upon killing
Yet will pay out the nose to have me
Clear the “vermin” from their townhouses.
It feels like a betrayal to my own kin
Bugs,
Bees,
Rats,
Fleas,
Been around them
Longer than any of the beautiful people.
The hardware store has the same tools I use.
Those fat cats just don’t want to dirty their paws.
They think it’s more
Humane
For someone else’s kid to kill.
They ask for glue traps
Something quiet,
Out of sight,
No ghastly blood or entrails left,
No popping or snapping
Of rats caught dead.
They don’t want to think about it,
What they wanted to happen
Was a death
Just a degree outside their control.
I place my glue traps solemnly
With a prayer,
Not of forgiveness,
I don’t deserve that.
I pray each fat cat’s kitten
Feels the fright of caught feet
I beg whatever can hear
They learn the fear of stuck fur,
Face glued down,
Breathes haggard
Waterboarded with adhesive
Each gasp at life sucking gunk
Further in their noses,
Pressing down their tongues
Closing their throats.
It’s cruel to think there’s a humane way
To kill what you deem a pest.
When I finish the prayer I know
It falls
On deaf ears and idle hands.
What would a god do?
They let us invent glue traps.
A Statement from the author:
Everything I write comes to me from my dreams. These poems represent the raw state of my lived experiences and interests filtered through my unconscious mind.
Quinlan Finnegan is a twenty-four year old undergraduate student of CUNY Hunter College in New York City. Having originally grown up only a hop skip and a jump away on Long Island, he enjoys the macabre, indulging in collecting horror movies and books, taking part in oddity expositions, and visiting haunted historical sites. On top of that, he watches and takes part in rugby and jiu jitsu, gardens, drinks with his friends, and has a good time.
Quinlan can be found on Instagram at: @quinyfin27