Ratz In The Suflé

Der were ratz in the suflé again.
My moder gave me ratz to eet.
Cellar ratz, in the suflé, again.
Has my moder ever eeten ratz?
I bet not.
I bet ratz never eight my moder.
If ratz could think,
they would cook and eet my moder.

I am a rat. I think
I'll feed my moder to the ratz, my broders.
Piece by piece. I laf. I think.
Ratz in the suflé, again.

by Martin A. Ramos

Other poems of RAMOS (16)

Comments (1)

so much love in the world that eventually everything erupts in laughter the memory so sweet a fine poem (please pardon: good enough to eat)