The exterminator is sick of me
with my calls and my begging
and my incessant offers of Reals
to get the job done.
‘Stop calling!’ he says ‘and leave me alone.
‘You do not have tortoises in your ceiling!’

O! Mi dio!
He doesn’t understand
or refuses to see.
But I know.
There is something haunting my halls
a creature crawling beneath the roof
a beast that defies description
but remains
a tortoise in the ceiling.

The exterminator will not come
or even speak to me any more
so I am left alone
with this thing prowling my presence
a creaking
just out of reach.
An alien
is amongst me
and I can do naught about it
– and don’t get me started
on the hares in my drain.