I come home and
all the eggs are lying broken on the floor.
Don’t ask me who done it,
or where the chicken ran off to.
Gorey little yellow blob bodies
Bleak is the blanched hand
that's stuck in the already empty cookie jar.
I’m not interested in called the kettle black
or calling it at all.
He never called me back for the pot anyway.
Who does he even think I am?
The fox screams outside my window
and the cat gruffs like he can take him.
Does the fox know it's nearly 3 in the morning
Does the cat know I changed his name to Schrödinger
after all those times he ran away from me ?