That Thing In The Cupboard
You know it's there
That thing in the cupboard.
You never want to tarry there,
In that big cupboard, the one by the stair
Because you know it's in there.
It's not exactly human
Or totally a monster,
It's somewhere in between,
It's very tall
With skeleton fingers that could tighten around your neck,
Could sneak up behind
And bring no good.
I hang my coat in there
And keep spare batteries on the shelf
And the Christmas wrappings
And some old cassettes I can never use now,
Things I should really throw out
Are stored in there.
And every evening I seem to have to go in there
For something . . .
I always make sure the cupboard door is closed tightly at night,
I usually check it twice.
One night I went in, the light failed
And the door swung closed
And I saw two red eyes . . .
Anyway, I've been living with the thing in the cupboard for a while,
It's been there as long as I can remember,
Just outside of my line of visiion
But a constant presence.
It's always been there
Until yesterday evening . . .
I came home and the cupboard door was wide open
And apparently had been open all day
While the electricians re-wired the place.
Oh no !
I walked into the cupboard,
It had been open all day
And the thing was no longer there !
I could sense the change immediately,
The cupboard was bland, no atmosphere,
The thing had got out.
After all the careful years of keeping the cupboard secured,
The thing had got out,
But to where ?
And where is it now . . . ?