When something small has disappeared, be sure to look around
For when there's something missing, when something can't be found
Be sure the greepers grabbed it, from underneath the ground
They build their forts from ballpoint pens, and other things you've lost
Like homework and permission slips, like shoelaces and socks
They take them underneath the floor – more silently than frost
Greepers munch your missing shirts and nest in dryer lint
They steal the light from lightbulbs, the flavour from the mint
The take the sense out of your dreams and won't say where it went
You'll never see them coming and you'll never see them go
(Just a flicker in the corner, just a mark upon the snow)
So when you do not see them, you know they're there – ergo!
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Did I mention I have this weird idea to write a book of poems about monsters? The only problem is I can't resist rhymes like "ergo," which probably appeal to me more than to my, whatcacallit, target audience.
I like it! The horgan, too.
Yeah, but you're not a whatcacallit either....