Look into me.
You must admit, my wrasse is nice.
There, the pair of ragged claws you might've been
scuttling across the floor;
it queasies me to feel the eel
whiplash, lengthening, through my depths
shouldering aside their leagues,
and those pellucid shrimp
whose tentacles tickle my fathoms.
Children peer in me
and flutter and fall asleep.
While I mutter a continuous electrical purr
like an undivided heartbeat.
Their elders come to check them:
through the cracked door
a slip of light
unfurls on the floor.
Don't let the bedbugs bite.'
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