The patter of pink feet
echoes through the metal.
Thousands of screams
for salvation at each near
crushing car.
I can hear their calls –
beneath rodenticide signs.
I can hear the sticky sounds
of new life, death, and
all the inhumanities
in between.
Oh – hope
from the white lights:
bright lights
from cycled
10-car cans.
As the unforgiving
luminance approaches,
the world of vivacious vermin
halt their vigil –
and witness –
a saved son
or sacrifice.
