Thursday, 14 April 2011

You Know Who

The sofa mole lives under the throw, 
digging up hills in the cushions 
and coming out only 
for breakfast and tea. 
I sit on the floor, anyway.

This is actually a fib. I don't sit on the floor. 
I feel for the bump under the throw and avoid sitting on it. But that wouldn't fit into the poem. 


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