I Can't Concentrate!

I can't concentrate!
mice, rats, a squirrel?
making this awful racket 
behind the sheet-rock.

If they pause I can’t think
till they start again,
or if they don't 
my ears are thinking them,

gnawing, clawing,
barreling along the skirt-board,
slaphappy, quarrelsome, 
and, worst of all, maybe

none of them are poems at all,
just common raptors
behind my skin scratching my heart
and gnawing my bones.