[James Midgley]

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Rat Lists

Did they wish to be counted? Surely they chose
to burgeon the barrel, to wince from the gutterpipe
which sang in a low tuba note their compressions.
As they gathered they wound tail over tail
and these were not in the end much like worms at all
but squirming corals or the near-luminous
anemones that wriggle beneath undersea rocks
and the rocks of their bodies grew indistinct
and their feet which had been almost human
interlinked like verses and the wearing action
of hearing their names called, like the harsh
erosion of the ocean, rubbed them smooth, hairless
but somehow precious, valuable to someone who
might mention it but not stoop to grasp them.
Meanwhile the fire murmured at the local and a band
not too loudly played a tune to nostalgia which was
a song to the gaps much as rain is
though no weather woke and the evening was pure
and the girls adorned bright dresses and eyelashes
and the boys played at marbles under the washing lines.
And there were names like Field-Goat, Does-Calculations,
names for irregular bleeding and discolouration,
names that made you laugh, many to make you rage,
and when the litany finished and the piping died down
the one led away was exactly what you'd expected –
it was Cheats-at-Cards-Elegantly, it was Mother-
of-Polite-Orphans, it was Thrown-Stone and Window,
it was Overwatchful-Eye, else Blind or Willow-Nose,
it was From-Foreign-Burrow but also Home-Over-Swollen,
it was Water-Supply and Ungodly-Wrong and Amen.


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[Glenn Wright]

Hi, James—

I remember reading somewhere, probably in some unreliable online source, that in a big city like New York or London, you are never more than six feet away from a rat. I also remember reading Orwell’s 1984 for the first time and being creeped out by Room 101 and the wire mask with the rat that, if released, would bore into Winston’s cheek and devour his tongue. Rats are the stuff of Halloween, but as I read your poem, I felt myself warming up to them. The names are so evocative.

Glenn

[Matt Q]

Hi James,

Great to see you posting at the Sphere. I'm really happy to be reading your poems again. I think this one is excellent. It pulled me in and held my interest throughout. I had no idea what would happen next until it did. The imagery is strong throughout. I loved the tails as corals and anemones, for example. I was drawn to reread the poem a number of times, and will come back and read it more. I don't have any nits, but I'll keep looking. Probably the most useful thing I can do at this point is offer my reading of it.

The first half of the poem seems to describe the formation of a rat king. The gathering rats "wound tail over tail". The transformation continues, the rat's bodies grow indistinct and hairless and even their feet link together. The hearing of the names seems to play a causal role in this. In this, there's a sense (for me), that that which individuates -- having a name -- is part of what's causing their loss of individuation, their coming together as a single being.

The second half seems to take us to the realm of humans, to a pub, and when this move happens, it seems relevant, perhaps, that the rat's feet had previously resembled humans'. Or at least, that's something that strikes me as I read. So, I think we're among humans, but there's a slight doubt, perhaps, that we are still among rats (though that's not my reading). The scene seems to be one imbued with purity and nostalgia, and children (who may possibly be adults) conform to their traditional gender roles. Here too, there are names. And the poem takes a more disquieting, darker turn. In the context of the list of names, someone is led away. And the possible names of the ones led away seem to hint at race/nationality (Discolouration, From-Foreign Burrow -- and possibly Willow-Nose hints at a presumed racial physiognomy), religion ("Ungodly Wrong", "Amen"), disability ("Blind"), social class/financial deprivation (Widow-of-Polite-Orphans, Home-Over-Swollen), rule-breaking (Thrown-Stone, Cheats-at-Cards).

So, over all, given the lists, and who is taken away, I'm reminded of totalitarian regimes, and fascism in particular, given the emphasis on nostalgia. How to put the two halves together? It occurs to me that I can read them in reverse order. That perhaps the calling out of names causes the people to subsequently to become an indistinguishable whole, and to lose their humanness in the way the rats lost their human-like feet. And perhaps this form of unity, of indistinguishability, can be seen as the goal, or consequence, of a totalitarian regime.

I imagine the above isn't necessarily the only reading, and maybe I'm reading too much in in places, but that's where it took me. The poem pulls me in, and invites me to get involved, it's evocative and makes me want to weave a story around it, and that's very much what I like in a poem.

So, again, I really enjoyed this poem. I'd say it was ready to go, and deserves a home someplace good.

All the best,

Matt

[Jim Moonan]

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Hi James, and welcome! This was/is a pleasure to read —What an energized, imaginative romp through the rat kingdom(?) or its metaphorical equivalent. You weave images with sonics beautifully and your word selection and phrasing is distinct.

My only problem is with my inability to feel confident I know what is happening in this. It feels metaphorical but I can’t make the connection. My problem, not yours! It good to see a word like “burgeon” appear. It’s a hard word to apply to anything I can think of, but you found a way. I also liked this:

their feet which had been almost human
interlinked like verses

Matt also points out other arresting images that make this feel elevated to be a vision.

I like the flurry of hyphenations at the end.

Maybe as others take a shot at what is happening in the poem I’ll come back and finish this crit, but my first impression is that it is packed full with good poetry.

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Coming back in to say I overlooked the "Amen" that ends the Poem. Interesting name choice, Amen.There is a Joycean stream of language that ends the poem

L25: stumbled on the phrase "the one led away". Is it another way of saying "the one takeaway"?

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[James Midgley]

Hi Glenn, hi Matt, hi Jim -- many thanks for your generous takes on this.

I'm glad the rats grew on you, Glenn. The 1984 reference is a fortuitous one. I can't recall when I first drafted this poem, but I re-read 1984 fairly recently -- so there's every chance it was somewhere in my mind during its conception. Poor Winston. Poor Rat!

Matt, I'm really glad this worked for you. Your reading matches my intentions, as far as I can judge, pretty completely, which is very heartening. In these recent drafts I've tried to strengthen the nod to the Pied Piper tale (subtly). Is that coming over as a helpful lens?

Jim -- many thanks for the warm welcome and for dropping by! I'm very glad you seemed to enjoy the poem, even though things remained a little mysterious for you. 'the one led away' was intended to be read as 'the one who/that was led away'.

Thanks again, all of you.

[John Boddie]

James -

It's good to see your work again.

I came away from several readings with the impression much the same as I might have after looking at a painting by Bruegel. There are marvelous details but the overall effect is impressionistic. The bodies of the mice, the background of the local and the people in it and the names of the mice. The piper is there and may be leading everything (after all, we are never told where the piper led the mice).

I can't point to anything in the piece that would benefit from a suggested change. I'd pay good money for a book that had this in it.

JB

[Cally Conan-Davies]

G'day James! What a treat!

I'm so glad John mentioned Bruegel. The poem is very like that! Impossible to paraphrase, completely evocative and provocative, from endearing to chilling, the flavour runs the full gamut really.

The whole thrust of the poem is carried into the final 'name'/word which itself says a lot—the traditional amen of a litany, and I can't help but hear 'ah, men . . .' in a sighing tone of mingled exasperation, disappointment, pity, and, yes, a deep affection for the whole holy mess.

I think the poem is ingenious, imaginative, really smart, rich, has momentum.

For me this litany invokes something about humanity. Probably humanity itself.

This poem will always be more than anything we can say about it. It's so playful!

Cally

[John Riley]

James, I agree with what has been said. This is a delight to see posted here. Thoughtful and well done. Great work.

[Matt Q]

Hi James,

Originally Posted by James Midgley

Your reading matches my intentions, as far as I can judge, pretty completely, which is very heartening. In these recent drafts I've tried to strengthen the nod to the Pied Piper tale (subtly). Is that coming over as a helpful lens?

To be honest, I didn't catch the Pied Piper nod, though I did pause on "piping", but took it to be either noises made by the people during or after the litany (who then piped down), or to the sound of the band. I didn't take the "gutterpipe which sang in a low tuba note their compressions" to be a literal musical pipe either, though I can now see it as a clue. I'd imagined a literal gutter pipe filled with rats, and the pipe either metaphorically sang, or amplified the sounds of them pushing together. I'd taken the barrel similarly, as filling/burgeoning with rats. Both seemed images of rats squeezing into things.

Anyway, maybe that's poor reading on my part. Maybe I should have put the pipe and the rats and children together, but I didn't. Now that you've flagged it, I can see the nod, of course, but I don't know that I can make too much sense of it.

OK, so in the story, the PP enchants the rats and children. So in the poem is he the one casting the fascist spell over the people, here, enchanting them that way? Though in the story it's only the children (and the rats first) he enchants, not the adults. So maybe not. Or are the children getting indoctrinated and that's the enchantment?

And if in the poem. the PP is luring away the rats (and possibly children) then who is calling the names and taking the one person away? Or is the PP doing both? Is the calling of names a form of piping? (Though in the poem the calling of names happens after the piping is over).

And in the story, the taking of the children is the consequence of the townsfolk not paying for the removal of the rats. Is this intended to be paralleled in poem somehow?

Also in the story, the PP takes the children, though this doesn't seem to happen in the poem, though perhaps I should take "when ... the piping died down" as, "after the children had been led away by the PP"? Or perhaps the idea is that we're at the point where the rats have been removed, but the PP has yet to come back for the children?

Anyway, these are the directions I tried going in to find a way to fit the PP story into what I'd originally taken to be the narrative of the poem, and I didn't really get anywhere. That could well be me, of course.

best,

Matt

[James Midgley]

Hi JB, hi Cally, hi John and hi again Matt. Thanks so much for reading and commenting on the poem. I'm glad you've found things to like in it, and all in all you've been much too kind. Thank you again.

I can see the Bruegel -- the town in my mind has the same dark muddiness and jumble to it.

Thanks for coming back to the piece, Matt. I suppose 'lens' may have been too strong a word -- but the poem, as it began, was certainly riffing off the legend. In older drafts the poem began earlier, with a kind of census-taker-character merged with PP coming to take stock -- but I preferred to start in media res in the end, and thought this one of those times where less finnicky information might be better.

Anyway, the poem probably wants to do its own thing at this point. If it's successful without that framework, then all the better. I do wonder if more of a helping hand might be in order somewhere, but I'll have to let it sit for a bit before re-assessing.

Many thanks again, all of you.