Quietly Stalked
Silent for the moment,
it sits waiting,
looming in the corner,
one eye gleaming.
Other occupants
of the room cower.
The classics stifle sneezes
as their dusty pages
flutter with fear.
The Bible hugs the
lower shelf of the table,
protected by its own nonentity
and irrelevance.
The monster watches.
One small movement
will alert it.
My impotent pen drops
and rolls to its
favorite hiding place.
My groping finger lures
the lurking beast to action.
In helpless fascination
I stare
as the creature calls
for reinforcements.
They're coming in
by twos and threes.
I recognize war and pestilence
as lewdness and vulgarity
quickly follow.
I try to calm the ogre
when the room becomes
crowded with rudeness,
crudeness and indecency.
Horror and fear filter in
pushed by murder and
mayhem.
I frantically search
for old familiar friends.
Manners and kindness
have been over come
by the brutish force
of the invaders.
No longer in charge
of my own living room,
I almost succumb
to the subtle enticement
of the demon in
Pandora's box,
posing as a simple
source of entertainment.
Sanity stirs,
causing one faint flick
of my finger.
The serpent
crawls back into his lair
to sulk and formulate
plans
for another invasion
of my
peace and quiet.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2009
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