Tiny Thing - little poem

Tiny thing

We saw her/him again
Crossing near the baseboard
First heard her tiny feet:
Crispy sound pressing on my panic.

She seemed more clumsy than usual
Yet less fat than last time
But also less cheeky.
Did she get already sick
From the little drops of poison
Our landlord spread
That we accidentally forgot to vacuum?

Only two little green pills
Supposedly stronger than the old expired ones
He had put last time.
We dropped them when we moved the bag
Out of her way.
It was standing in front of the humane trap
That we strategically left untriggerable
So that she can get used to eat from
So that one day we can release her
We don't know where.

Maybe it's a he?
It's not very wise to even think 
About the possibility
Of it being a female:
Either a loner - it must be so sad!
Or not - maybe the tummy is not just 
The lavish diet she had
In the starred restaurant nextdoor?

What if she does get sick
And one day
Her babies are waiting for her with hunger?

I am happy I saw him.
I was looking at the drops of poop he had left
in the dark corner of the pantry
Hoping he is not sick or dying somewhere
Maybe alone, maybe with his wife and children.

I am teriffied I saw it.
What if it is indeed
Preparing a large scale take-over
Of our entire household
With armies of its offspring?

Always wear slippers,
Put all food away
In airtight containers
And clean after it 
Where we saw it passing.
Maybe it already infested the whole house
With hanta virus, salmonella and pox.
It is everywhere
In the house and in my mind.
It eats our food.
Occupies our space.
Doesn't produce any income
And is not born in here.
Found its way to my nightmares.
IT definitely must die