Made to Measure.
You had every intention
of pissing in my pots,
puking in my pans or on my breakfast,
stamping your six infested legs
around my plate or in my cup.
So I was glad when you
buzzed into your nemesis
of vibrating consequences.
I watched the toxic tailors’s silken waltz,
took sick glee in your helpless twitchings,
as he made your suit of finest thread
far too tight a fit.