Creep

 

Your carpet crawls like droplets on a hotplate
and the fear of tiny mouthfuls grows, exponential
to fleabites.

The TV fizzes, and news is scroungers
piggyback our sweet creatures: the country
begins to flake.

You go outside, where dog walkers pointedly
claw at the dole office. Suspicion
crawls up you

as you back for home. Through the curtain,
every curtain on the street fidgets
like carpet fibres.