Plushclaw

Lavergne fainted in a room full of old Fantasia brooms
her bloomers over her head
her folded salmon rows in full bloom spread
for the cleaning chemicals high on the shelf
for the pile of rags trestled by long-gone spiders
   and their empty husks of eggs
for the mop whose dreads were drowned in grime grey water
for the hundred brooms

Plushclaw
Plushclaw
Plushclaw

Lavergne gave birth to a terror years later
said she'd never touched a man but had slept soundly with fever
wondered if maybe magic had crept on cobbled knuckles
   to lay dormant like a comatose ghost inside her
wore thick coke-bottle glasses to spy the truth better
but no one believed her

win lose or draw
Plushclaw.

TA