I’ve drawn a line
of salt
along the base of my living room wall,
passing all the gaps where they might get in.
Looks like the painted edge
of a football pitch,
but it’s a barb-wire fence –
my perimeter.
Where the battle will be won and lost.
No more shiny, silvery trails
across my living room carpet in the mornings.
Just sticky,
painful,
gruesome deaths.
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