Your carpet crawls like droplets on a hotplate and the fear of tiny mouthfuls grows, exponential to fleabites.
TV fizzes, and news is scroungers piggyback our sweet creatures: the country begins to flake.
You go outside, where dog walkers pointedly claw at the dole office. Suspicion crawls up you
as you back for home. Through the curtain, every curtain on the street fidgets like carpet fibres.
Gram Joel Davies lives in Devon. His recent poetry appears in The Interpreter’s House, Dark Mountain and The Fenland Reed. His first collection ‘Bolt Down This Earth’ is to be published by V. Press in April. This year he is touring with #Trios2017 poetry/art project in the Southwest.