The Gnome Who Lived With Us

I drew a sweet faerie girl with a half acorn hat Then I swept horrible kitchen floor in three seconds flat On a roll now, I wrote a number of banal, boring poems All to avoid a bossy, vindictive, creepy little gnome. He is sitting by my cocker, saying mean stuff about me. My dog rolls over, and sticks her rough pink tongue on his knee. The gnome sneers at my head, in a nasty unkind way. I run over to scrunch him up, but he cleanly gets away. Mad as Hades’ computers now, I clean the kitchen sink I clean when I am angry, or at the edge of a brink. The gunk behind the faucets I scrape up with a serrated knife. My husband starts to get some food but backs down when he sees his wife. I watch the big coward turn tail and run back to his man-cave-den. It is entirely his fault, this infuriatingly hopeless spot I’m in. The gnome is his third cousin, on his father’s side, a bratty little twit. If either one of them comes into my kitchen, I will throw a great big fit. The gnome is peeking at me from a space behind the TV now. I would like to take his little head and twist it ‘til he yells bow wow. My husband walks into the kitchen, and says “But what can we do?” When I get rid of one of them, it may quickly turn into two.