Intruder

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I want to find

the big old thing

that has been on my mind.

Saw it buried once – shame,

like a black sock spinning

in a cycle of white,

a shadow slipping

in and out of sight.

The drum was sounding

and I could not tell

where it came from

in the house,

but the kitchen sink

was screaming like a whirlpool

when I tried to wash my hands.