Has yesterday gone, or is it dozing in an upstairs room,
or combing the basement to find its place among my things,
or sneaking through the kitchen spitting on the food I eat?
No doubt it wants my mobile phone and plans to work
my contact list to help make sure its footprint grows.
Don’t tell me that it took my car and rushed to all
my navigation destinations, or wormed its way through all
my clothes to cling to me no matter where I go. Last night
I hoped when sleep took hold, there’d be relief at last, but
there it was in every dream – its faces, lies, and silent screams.
By Chris Basher (also writing as P. D. Kline), Pea Soup (p. 81). 2024.
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