Rats.

The man who got me pregnant stopped talking to me

wouldn’t look me in the eye

pretended the last three years of our lives were a hallucination

of a mad woman.

He came to me in my dreams while his DNA intertwined with mine

working overtime in my uterus

to create our future daughter.

He’d show up like a god in a Greek play, Dios ex machina

suddenly appearing as if he’s been lurking the whole time

appearing in the shadows of my subconscious.

One night we were in a replica living room, ours but not quite

I called to him for help, there were rats in the closet.

I could hear them in there, scraping around.

The thought of them gave me panic

I imagined them big, hungry for blood

ready to tear me limb from limb.

There are no rats in there, Carlos said.

He walked to the closet door

I couldn’t watch. I closed my eyes and braced for impact.

The pulse pounding through my ears

I began to scream while thousands of rats jumped from the closet

creating a pillar of rats I encircled, their energy moving through me

Open your eyes, he yelled over my howls of terror.

Open your eyes, he yelled over the rush of the rats.

Open your eyes, he yelled and so I did.

There was nothing there.

I felt as though a hurricane had swept through but the only misplaced object was me.

There are no rats in this closet, Carlos said to me.

I woke up in a panic but also felt relief

there were no rats in the closet, it was all in my head.

Carlos still won’t look in my direction.