a poem


The scalp of the cat is divided
Into manageable plots of arable land
That fleas work all day, sparing no effort
It is organic agriculture, fleas believe
They are living off the fat of the land
And participating in an ancient ecocycle
That predates us all
Like a Waitrose shopper,
Making ethical choices with a cup of free coffee in hand
The flea would be shocked to be called
A parasite

Take me home