carrots

carrots

I bought a bag of baby carrots–
for munching, crunching, lunching on–
and in mere hours since they were bought
those carrots came to be half gone.

What troubles me is not the fact
that they inhabit my digestive tract,
but a rather more horrific thought
of vengeance rising from the ground.

For what it is is clear to see
(and at the moment I can see quite well)
that if I’ve eaten all the baby carrots
their parents must be mad as hell.

So here I lie awake in bed.
I’m glad I’m on the second floor,
but stranded still and still from terror
of carrots knocking at my door.