Look in 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
whip, lengthening, through my depths
shouldering aside their leagues,
and those pellucid shrimp
tentacles tickling my fathoms.
Children peer in me
and flutter and fall asleep.
Whilst I mutter a continuous electrical purr
like an undivided heartbeat-
Their elders come to check them:
through the door-slit
a slip of light
unfurls on the floor.
'everything alright? G'night,
Don't let the bedbugs bite.'
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