Predation
It creeps over beer stained carpets.
Last night I saw its hunchbacked shadow
rooting in the fridge for spreading cheese.
This morning it peers out of my front window,
looking to see if anything has changed -
nothing has.
I know it will be up all night
shaking an unlit Christmas tree,
it will moan. It imagines
rearranging my leftover life
for another year.
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